


What Do You Mean I Can't Die?

by StolenPonies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Dystopia, Blood and Gore, Developing Relationship, Dystopia, Friendship, Government Experimentation, Growing Up, Horror, M/M, More tags/relationships to be added as fic progresses., Multi, Romance, Science Fiction, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 52,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenPonies/pseuds/StolenPonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A complex, harrowing dystopian work- WDYMICD explores Dirk Strider's transition from a human mortal, to an immortal android in a cruel society with a caste based on intelligence. Livid and restless, he is forced to live with Jake English, a relentlessly happy gun fanatic with dreams of leaving the city of Alternia.  As time passes and their relationship deepens, the city around them gradually unravels into something more horrifying than anyone could have ever anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a rehash and continuation of a three chapter (unfinished) work done a while ago on another account of mine. I deleted the first version off the face of this earth (short of pulling a copy to my drive) so I will be the only one that has to suffer. 
> 
> For all announcements and chapter notes for this story:  
> http://stolen-ponies.tumblr.com/

  _The rusting knife above Dirk pierced into his skin, twisting down into his tissue at a 45 degree angle before pulling out violently. Again, and again, further and further it pierced. Splattering against the white of the floor, down poured his blood…._

* * *

 At six pm on the 3rd of June, metal clamps strapped 18 year old Dirk into place, preventing him from moving.

The masked doctor overseeing his conversion process walked around the length of the bed, mentally noting observations before halting in front of a computer. A starkly ordinary government model, the doctor lowered his hands onto the blank steel pad before the screen, letting the machine synthesize his thoughts into a congruent body of text. The text stacked and stacked, the cursor often flicking backward and editing words before jumping ahead and continuing anew.

The observations on the screen contained a number of concepts that couldn’t properly be known through image alone: the rate of Dirk’s heart, the coarseness of his skin, the quality of his voice, the size of his body, the manner of his word.   

From Dirk’s point on the bed, on the screen of the computer, he could view a number of sporadically appearing and disappearing photographs, all of which varied shots of his body. A small, floating white camera in the shape of a cone methodically took them, drifting above him from head to toe, sliding back to its original spot a foot above the left of the bed’s head after it completed a full set. It continued scanning as the doctor continued to write, swaying forward and back through the air as it captured its final headshots.

Today, Dirk becomes immortal.

As the minutes until the procedure became seconds, and seconds became milliseconds, Dirk struggled against the clamps, only resulting in red impressions on the skin of his unclothed arms and legs. His mind began to haze with the horrors to come, envisioning every possible cut, every possible gash, every possible removal. Despite his bellicose movements, he refrained from spoken word until absolutely necessary, only to maintain what remained of his rapidly diminishing control.

The camera came to rest. The doctor stopped his typing. A tray opened at his side.

A number of metal instruments with varied levels of cleanliness sat on the tray. One butcher’s knife, one carving knife, one surgical knife, one rusting knife, one drill, one stethoscope, seven acupuncture needles, seven industrial needles, and seven heads for a saw.

No gloves. No bandages. No anesthetic.

Dirk’s heartbeat became erratic. Rumored though the streets, the captives that struggled more suffered life before death longer. Warned through the homes, the doctors that liked to play with their victims outweighed those with any modicum of ethics. Reminded at the daily, any person who could ascertain a 90 or higher regularly on aptitude tests would be granted the divine privilege to live forever in metal, while those who could not would be left to rot, recorded in superior minds for their entertainment and enrichment.

* * *

 “….I’m not going to waste breath on asking why you’re doing this. It’s pretty damn apparent that you’re just fucked up. What I am going to ask for is for you to just cut through my skull and get it over with.” Dirk kept his gaze fixated on the blank white walls opposing the direction the doctor sat at. “In fact, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you silently made a pact with me and just cut straight through my brain. Prevented the resurrection from even occurring. Chalk it up to an unfortunate creativity overage.”

The doctor remained silent, pulling his tools closer. His hand idly drifted over them, his white hazard suit and mask hiding any flux of his expression, hiding any show of his humanity.

"......Fine, the illegality could end you too. Instead, how about you wait until my brain is extracted and sort of. Break the containment case? Attribute it to a machine failure. Just- abstain from anything sadistic. Considering my relative monetary status, you could take my belongings as more than fair reparations." 

The doctor took the rusted knife, stabbing it into the area just below Dirk’s clavicle on the right hand side. The partially-dulled tip of the blade forced him to place an unnecessary amount of pressure on it to lodge it far enough down to keep itself standing, causing Dirk’s tissue to rip unevenly. He left it there as Dirk cried out, his arms and legs thrashing against the metal bonds.

The doctor then lowered his hand to rest on the handle, pulling up the blade.

* * *

  _The rusting knife above Dirk pierced into his skin, twisting down into his tissue at a 45 degree angle before pulling out violently. Again, and again, further and further it pierced. Splattering against the white of the floor, down poured his blood…._


	2. Entering Jake's Apartment

 

_"As a proclamation of the state, all of those who are endowed with extraordinary talents of the mind shall be gifted immortal shells, and henceforth placed beside those less complex of thought to record their lives in their eternal memories.  From life to short life, the accruement of human experience should develop leaders fit for the world of today, for the world of tomorrow, and for the world of years in their own making."_

The Alternian Head of State, January 23rd, 2400

* * *

The morning of June 4th

Dirk woke up with a mind clearer than he ever experienced before. He experienced tolerable mornings. He experienced mornings where he didn’t train quite so hard the prior day, and didn’t strain quite so hard on the following one. He experienced mornings where he downed five cups of coffee and lapsed into a state caught between feeling existent and not. But on the day of his first awakening, he experienced none of the clouding that results from an absence of tea, coffee, or other ritualistically consumed daily drink. He instantly attained absolute focus, without any of the requisite side-effects of caffeine. His thoughts appeared at such clarity that mustering them felt like picking up items in an organized box, instead of looking for a blue marble in a closed bag. They appeared at such a speed that he could edit and reconfigure his language by scanning over each word and comparing alternatives as if working through a written draft with a thesaurus. They layered in such a way that he could prioritize innate reactions and compare cause and effect as if having those options previously generated, displaying in his mind like individual programs. His mind was refined, imitable, and closer to perfection than he ever could have fathomed.

With this focus, he adroitly determined that he currently laid on an unknown bed in an unknown house, and the unknown person within it (presumably the owner) didn’t know how to sing Shout Sister Shout without replacing every 2-5 words with humming.

In light of Dirk’s incomprehension of his surroundings, he sat up on the soft bed underneath him. The warm blankets, previously covering him, brushed down along his torso, which thankfully, created a sensation akin to one he would have felt otherwise. He looked down to see clothing on his frame: one plain short sleeve shirt in an olive green, and one pair of underwear with Batman logos patterned across them. While he would never succumb to buying anything so tacky on his lonesome, he supposed the change good compared to his nudity on the metal confinement bed. He let the fingertips of his right hand run across the bottom of his shirt’s fabric, lifting it up by the bottom edge to feel the quality of the cloth before dropping it back down.

He idly felt over the edge of the blanket placed on his lap, weaving it through his fingers as he studied the room around him. The light green walls beautifully caught sunlight from a singular, white framed window on the rightmost side of the bedroom, the dark brown wood on the floor becoming a lighter brown with a red tint. The sky in the window appeared a light blue with minimal clouds. To the left of the room, hung to the side of the closed, white bedroom door, sat a large wooden round clock with a series of hearts elegantly carved around the sides. Underneath it just to the north laid a white nightstand. The glass hearts of its knobs caused small rainbow fragments to shine across the floor immediately in front of them. To his front, there stood a reasonably sized tv in a white television cabinet with approximately….322 DVDs nestled against each other inside, with some separate disks sitting beside a small figure of Batman’s Robin and Nightwing at the top.

After his minute of analysis, he carefully got out of bed, tentatively placing a foot forward to walk. Once the process affirmed itself to be the same as the one taken while imperfectly human, he began to walk out, revealing a small living room meshed with an open kitchen. Inside of it, there stood his new YetToDie, who would hopefully have no other friends within the house.

The man (who could not possibly be a year older than he was) held a curious appearance. He combed and gelled his raven black hair to flip up at the front perfectly, though a few strands to the back stuck out at the sides of his head. His emerald green eyes glittered like the faces of a diamond, their complexity changing with the light. He had a rounded nose, and his cheeks exhibited a childish, faint red. He tanned unevenly, with some patches of skin on his arms nearing pale, to a beautiful light brown on his face and neck.  A skinny thing with most of his bulk concentrated toward his arms, Dirk guessed him to either be a marksman or a boxer.

Laying on the counter beside him sat his glasses, likely removed for the purpose of preventing them from fogging. Steam wafted up from the black stovetop pan the man held, soon replaced by a dollop of butter melting and coating the base of it. As soon as he spotted Dirk, the YetToDie quickly let go of the pan, twisting the handle to the side so that it ran parallel with the counter before running over to him. A clearer perspective revealed a cerulean apron with a large Neytiri applique at the bottom, accented by a series of equally tacky red and pink hearts.

“Well hello there  _Dirk!_ ” 

He ensured to stress his name with a slight pause and a slight hike in volume, all to ensure that Dirk knew his importance within the house.

“It is nice to see that you woke on up from your rest. See, I didn’t want to wage any battles with alarms quite yet because you haven’t had a chance to have a real sit down within my humble domicile. But there is a way that you can set a morning chime for future days. I have gained wind that there are people in the world that like to feel the brunt of time’s mistress instead of just letting her relativity do the dirty work, and I am assuming that you might be one of them. Within the cupboard there are a series of small timer looking doohickeys which can be cranked up at the back…..”

He promptly whacked himself lightly at the side of the head, making sure to pitch the following phrase to mirror Miss Martian in Young Justice.

“Hello, Jake! I haven’t even given a proper introduction yet.”   

He extended a hand forward, which resulted in some of the flour on his apron displacing itself onto the floor.

“My name is Jake English, and I am to be your keeper for conceivably the next…….however long I live for! Don’t count on any easy outs because I am not one to be a layabout.”

Dirk stood in place, reluctantly placing his hand within Jake's. Jake took advantage of the contact to  ~~forcefully~~  jovially shake Dirk’s hand.

“….If you’re going to be this big of a piece of-“ 

“Im making pancakes! Please take a seat on the couch over there so I can whip you some food right up. I know that you might take more kindly to simply charging later on because of how the energy of food processes relative to taking in straight up juice from the outlet, but for the time being, I have a surplus of syrup and butter and you don’t have any arteries to account for.”

The YetToDie- Jake, tossed Dirk a thumbs up before he ran back over to the pan, and began to pour some batter in.

Dirk walked over to the couch and rested his head in his hands, lamenting his eternal torment. He couldn’t deal with this. He wouldn’t deal with this. He heard of cases where Neverdead mysteriously killed their YetToDie and left their bodies at governmentally supported scientific research institutes to presumably be picked apart while the androids became free to wander around free until their next scheduled study, and honestly, he thought that a good first idea to pin to his list of ‘important ideas’.

So he did. The thought would then remain in the most easily accessible partition of his memory bank until willfully changed.

As he completed his thought, Jake brought over a stack of three bird-shaped pancakes with whip cream on top. Strawberries and blueberries sat at the side of the plate, opposing a small cup of syrup which Jake mindfully filled to prevent the partitions of the plate from intermingling preemptively. He placed silverware next to where Dirk sat, all wrapped up in a small paper napkin.

Dirk unwrapped and lowered his fork to eat his first official meal, pinning 'Jake makes damn good pancakes.' beside the first important idea.  

* * *

  _“We move forward for each other, we move forward because of each other, we only move forward for purpose to each other.”_  

The Alternian Head of State, February 24th, 2400


	3. Shopping (Part one)

_"For the betterment of all, down to the singular person, let those with the largest minds, the largest creativity, and the largest innovations live. Let them live long enough to outlast those who couldn't match them. Let them live long enough to outlast those who could never match them."_

The Alternian Head of State, April 2nd, 2400

* * *

The afternoon of June 4th

Within the home, Jake instructed Dirk to aid in carrying a series of small packages to the floor space by the foot of the couch. While Dirk questioned the nature of the contents, every time he would attempt to stop him to ask, Jake would dismiss the question with a small wave of the hand, or immature laugher, or both. After a period of fifteen minutes, they compiled a neat stack of 20 pink, blue, and yellow packages of the same size, wrapped at the top with small, hastily made bows.

After the last of the boxes had been stacked neatly on top of the others, Dirk looked down at the pile from his standing position beside it. He wondered not only what they could be, but why they needed to be wrapped in such a way if, presumably, they were only going to end up in Jake’s own hands.  Giving gifts to yourself around the company of others was, admittedly, a little sad, and Jake didn’t seem the sort sad enough to entertain the notion for a minute. Not a second. Not a millisecond.

Jake brushed the dust off his hands and shut the door.

The door he came out of opened up to a hallway with a series of other apartments, with the opposing side of the wall featuring two lone elevators. The final two doors on the apartment side opened up to a series of stairways able to be used in the event of a fire emergency, or in the event that someone decided to not be lazy in the name of exercise.

In order for Jake to bring the presents up: he scurried in from his car at the outside of the apartment complex, ran to the elevators, dumped all of the boxes outside of it, pressed the button for the ‘up’ elevator, hastily shoved all of the boxes into it after it was fully open, ran into the elevator himself once he finished, enjoyed his sparing relaxation against the banister rail at the back as faint music played and the elevator moved up, hastily moved all of the presents out at the top, then began to move them toward Dirk once they were in a tiny mess at the front of the closed elevator door. Instead of just dragging Dirk downstairs with him and cajoling him to drag them all up at one time, he insisted against it.

He insisted because he thought Dirk might take the opportunity to run, and because he thought he might take the opportunity to open a box preemptively.

Once that all was done with, he walked to stand beside Dirk, placed his hands on his hips, and internally remarked on the pride he felt in his spoils. He let his breathing calm to a regular pace. He let his heart return to a regular rate.  

“The fuck am I looking at here.”

Jake turned his head to Dirk and smiled wordlessly for just a moment to catch what remained of his lost breath. He began to kneel down beside his own presents, picking each one up with care.

“I couldn’t preform the act before I had everything settled down proper- or rather I could have but this way makes for a better reveal. And in the realm of showmanship, every detail of a reveal counts, down to the time it happens. The room down from mine is where these will eventually be going- it’s the only door locked with these aces new 99% accurate biology scanners. I wanted to get a newer edition of it for ease and versatility of the keyword bank but- fine fine, we’ll get a move on.” 

Jake spoke in regards to Dirk putting on such a cold face that it put liquid nitrogen to shame. And because the man (droid) had yet to get himself any shades or anything- yowza.

Dirk inevitably took five of the boxes, and stacked them up into a pyramid within his arms before walking them over to the door Jake mentioned. Once at the door, mostly so that he could tilt himself to disallow the boxes from falling, he leaned fully back against the adjacent, right portion of wall. He allowed his head to lull back at the side, waiting while Jake opened it.

Jake placed his hands against the scanner on the leftmost side of the door, saying:

“User- Jake English. Relative score: 79. Access code: 990987533632922011- Oh! 11111. Delete phrase: “Oh”!” 

And with that, the door slowly began to open, a voice at the top stating:

"Welcome, user code: Cagefanboy589"

Jake coughed over the sound of his username as it was spoken before going inside.

The opening of the door revealed a perfectly dark room. The floor appeared completely barren, free of everything, including dust. Despite this, a singular, black panel on the wall looked as though it could be shifted to reveal a ‘non-space’, spaces that operate on something akin to video game infinite inventory volume, with internal designs that shift by user. Jake willed the room lights to come on, and through the power of thoughtsync technology, they did.

> While his version of thoughtsync was rendered antiquated by several years now, it still allowed the processing of 200 thought-based commands. Newer models ranged anywhere from 1500-2000, albeit, they could often only be afforded by the households with at least one member scoring 98 or higher in generalized mathematics, regardless of knowledge of the thoughtsync platform itself. Even now, years after the tech’s release, the streets hold conflicting views on it: one side happens to think the platform stupid because, even while holding things, speaking out commands wasn’t in any way a hardship. On the other side of things, if you’re trapped in your home with a burglar and speaking risks alerting them to your position, you can simply covertly sneak into a thoughtsync equipped room and place in a silent override to prevent anyone external from the room from unlocking it, while preventing them from learning of your existence, allowing you to sit down, think out a 911 command, and have pizza while the police drag the (hopefully foolish) individual off to receive a punishment.
> 
> You could also buy one of the newfangled locks Jake has and do the same, but what’s the fun in that?

Once within the room, Jake walked in front of the west wall, waving his hand over another sensor to the left of the infinite space panel. The room door opened by sliding over to the side, the contents within revealed to be a series of guns of varying size and shape.

Dirk took his place behind him and cringed, not only because the person he inhabited a house with might prove to be a whackjob, but also because Dirk is more of a sword man, really.

Ignoring Dirk completely, Jake opened one of the packages to reveal- ammunition. He stacked it on the shelf next to a series of packages that looked a lot of the same, repeating this gesture three more times before the panel flipped, revealing a hollow shelf. The closet could perform this action any number of times, with items being traceable through use of a small search panel next to the hand tracer.

> The search panel next to the closet allowed input of any term, which would then allow the user to find any item already stored within their own database. If the user willed to do so, they could apply keywords to particular items by selecting them after they entered, which allowed the easy identification of items in imperfect form, or items received by particular people, even if more than one item with the same base identification was present. (For instance- if there is a set of five computers all of the same model, and one has an internet history not wanted to be seen by anyone while the sun shone, that particular model could be marked ‘me only’, and that much would appear underneath it to prevent embarrassment at studying sessions.)

After he understood the situation, Dirk began to walk by the couch and pick up the gifts that remained in front of it and then handed them to Jake to be organized and tagged appropriately.

And to be quite honest, he just couldn’t understand how Jake gained as many guns as he did with his supposed adequacy level. 79 still exceeded the average by about 4 points, but usually led into a lifestyle equivalent to the American middle class, far from lending enough knowledge to acquire this many different pieces of artillery, let alone ammo for them.

“As much as I wouldn’t want to interrupt you in the process of adding a grotesque amount of ammunition to your collection, how exactly did you come into getting all of this shit? You might have undermined suspicion if you were fifty or so, as much suspicion can be undermined by owning an amassment of killing devices anyway, but at this stage- shits just bizarre.”

Jake turned from his thought typing into the ammunition keyword fields, laughed once, and then turned his closet away from the ammunition shelves to a shelf with four small devices.

“I can understand why you might take concern with the matter. While I am not one to be terribly quick in generalized subjects (the least of which has got to be obscure word meanings), I did gain an affinity toward gun knowledge. So much so that I do have a small gallery here. If I could bring myself to sell them I could possibly earn enough to get one of those fancy small places closer to the city hall for a few months. But that would be a bit tedious to deal with in terms of moving, and I hear that shopping around those parts is far harder. Something about wanting to keep the goods slung within the hands of the elite only. Considering that youre one of those 90 above types- do you have any knowledge of it?” 

“…While I am, my brother and I were raised by a 60. So, I’m afraid that I don’t have much knowledge of much of the city outside of the exterior partitions.” 

“What a bummer. It might be worth a trip later on then.”

Jake sighed.

“Then again- speaking of trips, I really do have to stock up on some things in order to take care of you now don’t I. If you wouldn’t mind coming along to swing some of the bill- that would be lovely. You are probably better fit for attaining items for yourself anyhow.” 

 

 


	4. Shopping (Final- Part two)

After a set of conversations involving what Dirk could wear outside of the home, Dirk reluctantly agreed to borrow more clothing of Jake’s. All of his shirts and shorts fit awkwardly tight on him, causing Jake to rectify the matter with a jacket. (As if that would somehow minimize the likelihood for everything else to tear by virtue of keeping the shirt out of sight.)

Once they sorted that out, they walked down the hall together to the elevator. To Jake, the space usually felt comforting to the point of not warranting thought, something that starkly changed with Dirk's decision to keep completely to himself. He kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling of the elevator as Jake regaled him with how fun the following trip would be, all of which didn't get returned with so much as an expression of amusement or disgust. The moment the elevator doors opened wide enough to slip out of them, he walked fast out the lobby door, seeming on the verge of sprinting at any moment. Jake ran behind him.  

> Alternian shops will accept money gained from labor, but a quicker way to attain goods is to simply amass knowledge on a subject and take a virtually hosted aptitude test to determine what range of goods befit your mental status. Within that range, items come with quantities to denote how much of a particular thing a user is able to get on one test. Multiple tests with varied answers from the first allow higher quantities of an item to be taken, but progressively take more time to complete. This acts to regulate how many items can be held by one person, but maintains the discrepancy between the rewards for the intelligent and for the foolish.
> 
> Richer shops toward the core of the state require their residents to answer tougher questions and require longer, sometimes extremely specific tests, whereas poorer shops toward the outskirts normally hold easier tests, and require lower amounts of money for payment. The richer stores typically come with far better security technology and object ranges than smaller stores, but some smaller stores may have items prohibited from sale in the core’s immediate area. Most notably, music and general media shows higher variance because the range of media deemed ‘excusable for sale’ toward the core is far narrower.
> 
> The question content for tests varies by shop, varying from content frequented on standardized tests, to knowledge specifically pertaining to what they’re vending, to content infrequently asked, like knowledge pertaining to details in paintings. They may also issue a range of brain speed or efficiency tests that come in the form of games that require users to hit a particular score before earning a point for a quiz, often placed in on the behalf of the store owners for the purpose of stalling and deterring.
> 
> Because of the potential exploitation of abnormal knowledge to force customers into using money earned from labor (normally graciously provided in low amounts by the stores themselves), Alternia enacted several regulations for content ubiquity, with the most stringent ones on the shops around the core. However, the rules are oriented in such a manner that allows repeated information in questions to allow the residents more items, but enough leniency to intentionally implement deviations depending on the preliminary ranking of a user, effectively controlling their markets.

Closer to the target location, Dirk folded his arms, keeping his gaze indignantly fixated on the sky as Jake led him down along the street. Jake took care to nudge him now and again when someone coming toward them didn't seem intent on changing their path, pulling him by the arm completely around any small obstacle like a fire hydrant. Occasionally, Dirk intentionally veered toward walking on the leftmost side of the sidewalk, so far that he only stood a centimeter from entering into the street, which Jake also returned with pulling. 

As usual with the population, those who weren't intent on simply pushing them over took to methodically speeding up and slowing down their pace to make the distance between themselves and others as large as possible.

> The population of Alternia is known for many things, most notably, hating the population of Alternia. Social discontent is on an all-time high, no thanks to the android movement, which ironically was partially created to alleviate some of the problem by forcing disassociated individuals to live and work in harmony. Notably, when standing at street corners, it’s wise to ensure you’re alone, or at a good distance from the crosswalk, lest the person already present attempt to trip you into the road, or kick your shin before dashing across. Greetings are to be kept short, and if you have something to say, the information should be strictly beneficial and usable. Intelligence factions are advised not to intermingle. Don’t touch anyone. Ever. 

After their walk (and a few unsuccessful attempts to converse), Jake stopped at the front of a medium-sized clothing store, no more than three blocks down from his apartment.

The storefront looked modest, with white walls and a giant sign with the name ‘Vanity’ written above the center of the front door in giant letters. A vine or two trailed down along the sides, thick enough to be seen from a fair distance away. The lights inside, as usual, were kept dim, though a screen display mounted behind one of the windows showed promotional content. Images of dresses and suits, sale advertisements, and the occasional sponsor ad played, with some of the resulting noise (mostly seapunk and vaporwave songs supplanted by a narration bit) audible from the street.

Jake stepped to the side toward the glass of the display, gesturing with a hand for Dirk to proceed inside first.

Rather unsurprisingly, Dirk quickly took up the offer, opening up the glass door, though he failed to leave the door open behind him. As a result of it, the door hit Jake on his side as he passed through, resulting in him taking an extra second to push the door back before he ran after Dirk again. 

Above them, as with most security systems, chimed a monotone voice saying:

“98”, “79”.

Jake was not the type to have enough patience to look up a word in the dictionary, let alone look up a word online, let alone look up anything else, let alone ogle vacantly at a screen someone else was in the process of using. As a result of it, rather than stand beside Dirk and continue to attempt to warm him up, he sat at a bench at the side, expecting to wait an hour or two for Dirk to get done with his shopping. 

He crossed his legs and idly turned by to another promotional screen mounted on the back wall, sneaking out his phone to resume a movie he had playing on Borderline Omnipotent Netflix.

Meanwhile, Dirk located a touchpad at one of the payment counters, going through the necessary form protocols before beginning to 'shop'.

To Jake’s surprise, Dirk sped through tests and picked out his attire in record time. As his fingers moved across the screen in a dizzying haste, one after the other, clothing articles began piling up on the table beside him (delivered by an automated system which ran all the way through the complex) inevitably ending with 16 pairs of shirt and pants in a time span of just under fifteen minutes.

After it was done, and Dirk was on the verge of commanding the system to bag his wares, Jake ran up to the counter, studying the contents.

Most everything was black. Some things featured hat designs, some things featured bird designs, some featured this weird Schrodinger-level of indecisiveness where it could be a hat and it could be a bird but it wasn’t explicitly either. There appeared to be a white garment within the pile that deviated from the pattern, albeit, there was only one of it present. Curiously enough, there also sat a pair of black-tinted triangle-shaped glasses folded over on the top.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some things with a bit more color?” 

Dirk glared at Jake, keeping his gaze fixated on him as he clicked the final button.

Two iron rods from the machine lifted a bag over the goods, chiming:

‘Thank you for shopping at Vanity.’ 

before the machine printed out a list of store sales and recent offers to sit in the bag with it.

Dirk walked quickly to leave with the bag, again refusing to leave the door open for Jake. But Jake knew better this time, turning to charge against the door with his back before jovially catching up.

“……So! I couldn’t help but notice that you um. Picked up an item for style alone. What might those specs be about?”

Dirk placed a hand over his face, pinching the top of his nose with his head turned down as he walked.

“They’re a replication of a pair that I wore before the conversion process.”

“Do they have a p-“

“Yes. They're kind of a family thing. Additionally, philosophically, triangles were rumored to be the basis of all forms in the Timaeus, not to mention what can be said regarding each point being representative of one partition of the Platonian tripartite soul. Also, Kamina wears a red pair.”

“That’s-“

“No. I don’t want your opinion on it, just keep walking.”

And so Jake placed a hand at the back of his own neck, walking alongside Dirk nervously.

> When someone is bound to the house of another, their possessions are left within the hands of those around them originally, who are presumably less fortunate than themselves. In this way, the families of the NeverDead are placed underneath the sound care of their remains, while the NeverDead themselves, those who can provide for themselves almost effortlessly, can begin to benefit those within their new homes.
> 
> As a resultant of the separation penalty, which states that any NeverDead separated from an alive YetToDie for more than three days will be deactivated, if there is an item present in their original home that a NeverDead wants because of an emotional attachment to it, the NeverDead may become insistent about dragging the YetToDie to retrieve it, or simply killing them and letting probable proximity to other YetToDies take care of the rule. 
> 
> High lenience toward the adjudication of crimes performed by someone on the immortal caste is phenomenally common.
> 
> As a recompense for their longevity, one of the primary downsides of being a Neverdead is that familial or romantic connections do not supersede monitoring duties, resulting in some tragic separations for those who did not score high enough to gain immortality with them. 
> 
> Like Jake, Dave Strider, Dirk Strider's younger brother, has been deemed a 79. 

* * *

  _Never forget those fallen for you, never forget those bound to fall. But remember that you are greater, and remember that you'll grow greater still._

The Alternian Head of State, April 15th, 2400

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of a dual update in a single day likely won't happen again (and if it does, it will occur within this first arc where the biggest immediate problem is Dirk's sass).
> 
> These first few chapters, as some might have guessed, are primer chapters. They're episodic explanations that gradually increase in length out to a point where events become worth resting on, all to tackle any question that might obfuscate how the story reads later on, precisely when it centers on the characters a little more. The alternative way to do this would have been to agglomerate all partitions into "explanation" chapters, or to shovel all necessary details into the first few chapters without anything moving at all, and then come to DJ here after everything was known. Both of which are okay in theory, but make for 'those two chapters you skip' in practicality. Later down the line, can I imagine that people are going to tell their friends to skip though this first block? Probably.
> 
> That being stated, as a bit of a break, the next chapter is going to rest on Dirk's thoughts and development a little more before moving onward.


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter alone, **small TW for a suicide attempt and implied abuse**.  
>  The attempt is failed, occurs in under a sentence, aint explicit in the slightest (no blood, no thought streams about it, just a small implicit action), but it's still worth a warning. Same thing goes for the abuse mention.

_‘What haunts me most is how much of the same I feel.’_

* * *

 The night of June 4th

Under an hour ago, Jake stated that he needed to leave the house to work, something which aided in paying for what his knowledge could not. He stated that he worked as an archeologist, and that his hours varied by the day. He stated that, while he usually felt inclined to work all throughout the day simply because he enjoyed it, tonight was a bit different because he didn’t usually have anyone else within the home to account for, let alone welcoming someone that would be staying with him for such a long while.

He then stated that, if he should be late to come home again, Dirk was free to use the bed in his own room (again).

Jake then left out the door, waving goodbye to Dirk from the hallway even after it closed.  

Rather than taking Jake’s bed, the same one he slept in after his own murder, Dirk decided it would be fairer to Jake to sleep on the couch. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the bed, but it kept heat well, and while the room the couch laid within was never entirely dark because of the moonlight casting out through the room's large window, which took up most of the wall opposing the kitchen, the couch still made for a decent resting place.

In coming days, perhaps he could negotiate putting a separate bed within the infinite space room.  

Instead of immediately attempting to fall unconscious, Dirk simply laid in place, keeping his gaze fixated on the white ceiling above him.

He closed his eyes and breathed in and out, directing all of his focus to his thoughts. He fashioned thinking to himself a large part of his life, because if you aren’t monitoring your own thoughts regularly, there’s a good chance that the thoughts within your mind do not belong to you at all.

He brushed his right hand up along his left arm’s synthetic skin, resting his hand on the left side of his face.

His hands maintained how callous they were from his former robotics work, though patches of skin toward his palm warped the softness of his arm’s skin into something akin to a gentle sandpaper. He gently pinched one of his cheeks, noting that the tautness of the skin was the same as it ever was.

His eyes opened, and again fell to the blankness of the ceiling.

Within his mind, he began to document his thoughts, purely for the purpose of being able to play them back to himself later on.  

“Day 1-

While I’m trying my best to forget, the experience of the conversion bed has yet to leave my mind. The feeling of pain. The feeling of watching portions of myself removed. The feeling of not being able to see what was done after I lost consciousness. Most prevalent, I can’t remove the feeling of helplessness that came from the confinement in theory, the sheer premise of being so fucking hapless that I couldn’t control what I became, or where I ended up at. Who I ended up with.

Jake seems. Tolerable. Of the people that I could have been matched with, he doesn’t exhibit many traits that would induce a constant feeling of unrest by living with him. He’s mostly cheerful about his words. He lacks chronic addiction. He’s not prone to sudden (negative) outbursts or physical violence. A little over the top, but he seems nice. Kind of lives like a sitcom star if that sitcom was in DC comics.

As far as potential danger is concerned- the guns in his room would be more worrying if they were a singular gun, one mounted as if in frequent use. With the multiplicity like that, he strikes me as more of a collector than a frequent user. And even if he does frequent their use, I doubt that he uses them for harmful means to humans, and I would imagine that he would alert me before taking one out.

But. On the off chance he were to shoot me. 

Would I really feel the bullet piercing through?

Can I still feel that degree of pain?

It’s still weird to think that, some day in the future, far future or close future, I’m going to be standing beside his coffin, and I won’t be any closer to death myself.

I keep thinking about my own death, but as far as my condition is concerned, I've already suffered it.  

At the least, the only true differentiation between this body and my prior one aside from that is an advancement in the efficiency of my neurology.

Which. That’s. Probably not good.

I’m not placing too much trust on the amassment of information anymore. I can't. 

It’s weird to be stuck like this. Disgusting.

And I can’t help but feel like I’m not different enough to meet up to the suppositions of existing at this level.

Am I supposed to feel above human?

Like I’m somehow inherently better by virtue of having more efficient processing?  

Maybe the others just acquired their manner of being over time, and the trick isn’t the immediate spike in functionality, but the time those functions are allowed to run for. They collect knowledge over time, grow and develop. Even if it runs on punctuated equilibrium, with the affordance of time that gradual fixes allow, that would mean that their accrued experiential wisdom would become so substantial that. I wonder if the hedonic treadmill still applies to emotional states even with that much information to handle.

I’m feeling a little despondent right now.

I’m going to attempt to change my behavior tomorrow to act a little nicer to Jake, because if I am going to have to be confined to him, it won’t make any sense to keep being an ass. That or I could just- 

No. I can't.

 I don’t want to kill him. Being killed was bad enough.

He might have family out there himself, somewhere.

I just hope that Dave can take care of himself back home. Or, what was home.  I think I taught him well enough, and he still has Bro.

But then again, he still has Bro.

Hopefully, he'll work something out. "

The side of his head lulled down against the couch cushion as he entered sleep.

>  Sleep for the immortals is strongly reminiscent to human sleep in theory, but starkly different in actuality.
> 
> Their dreams are comparatively more realistic feeling, despite retaining the eclecticism of human dreams. Environments take on heightened or absolute accuracy, and ones that are constructed out of nowhere have their own rules, scientific and governmental ones, which result in punishments if violated.  
> 
> Pleasant dreams still occur if the android is in a good state of mind, and nightmares can be more prone to appear in a bad state of mind. Conversely, it’s plausible for either dream type to happen in either state.
> 
> And yes, it is possible for androids to dream of electric sheep.
> 
> A ‘blank’ dream, which features only a screen of black until the awakening in the morning, is something that can be done only willfully.
> 
> Once an android has figured out how to properly command themselves, they may also set an exacting interval of time for sleep to start and run to without any variance on their feeling in the morning.
> 
> Should they decide to do so (or be forced to do so within neutralization chambers), these dreams can run days, months, or years.

* * *

 Within his first dream as a droid, Dirk began to envision a scene from his home.

Dirk laid peacefully sleeping in a quaint small room with brown, wood walls. While it was the least spacious of all rooms in the house, it had a small window which overlooked a nearby (often busy) beach and sea.

Seagulls of all sizes often came to rest right outside at the windowsill, occasionally coming inside when the window opened.

The sound of their cawing could be heard throughout the day, along with crowd cheering, concert playing, and vendor screaming from the beach.

When Dirk was young, ten precisely, he battled to get the room, insisting himself best suited for it. Dave didn’t even like to look outside anyway, and it would make no difference to him, he argued.

After a few similar arguments, their big brother, Bro, promised that he would get Dave a shelf to contain the bones he found on the beachside, along with a jar or two for them if he would give the room to Dirk. Dave complied, happily running off to the larger room to gather his remains. He ended up spending the entire day searching. 

At the current time of the dream, when Dirk was 13 and Dave was 10, Dirk’s small room was thoroughly littered with a number of his favorite things: rap CDS, anime DVDS, philosophy books, history books, empty paper, and pop-culture posters.

On the paper, he would draft schematics and maps, leaving them up on the walls on top of the posters.  

Here and there, he put out a pillow with a bit of birdfeed on it, so that when a seagull would come inside of the house, the bird would have a decent reward for visiting him.

Dirk stirred in his bed and opened his eyes because, as with most mornings, rap played out from the kitchen.

It always signaled when Dirk and Dave would need to wake.   

[Today, Tupac’s ‘Me Against the World’ played.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cjv7hEAytU)

_Can you picture my prophecy?_  
_Stress in the city, the cops is hot for me_  
_The projects is full of bullets, the bodies is droppin_  
_There ain't no stoppin me_  
_Constantly movin while makin millions_  
_Witnessin killings, leavin dead bodies in abandoned buildings_  
_Can't raise the children cause they're illin_  
_Addicted to killin and the appeal from the cap peelin_  
_Without feelin, but will they last or be blasted?_  
_Hard headed bastard_

He sat up in his bed, and stretched his arms upward. He attempted to contain a yawn, which sadly failed. The small noise of his mouth closing could he heard, which he attempted to stifle further by placing a gentle hand on his neck.   

Meanwhile, wafting down from the kitchen came the smell of pancakes. Bro usually made them with bird shapes because he knew how much Dave and Dirk liked birds, and they tended to react well whenever they received their food.

He would often place a bit of fruit beside them, along with some syrup, but he never separated the syrup from anything else.

Predictably, this resulted in a bit of frustration on Dirk and Dave’s part. (Everything would become soggy if left un-eaten for a while)

Still within the bedroom, Dirk grabbed his shades and haphazardly tossed them on. As he walked into the kitchen he adjusted them with a single hand.

He walked into the kitchen slowly, looking up at Bro wordlessly.

Bro stood in a plain white shirt with black pants, with a tacky blue apron overtop. At the bottom of it laid muppet applique, with equally tacky red and pink hearts framing it.  

In response to Dirk’s entrance, he laughed and outstretched a hand to ruffle his hair, directing him to go get Dave.

 _Maybe he'll listen in his casket - the aftermath_  
_More bodies being buried - I'm losing my homies in a hurry_  
_They're relocating to the cemetery_  
_Got me worried, stressin, my vision's blurried_  
_The question is will I live? No one in the world loves me_  
_I'm headed for danger, don't trust strangers_  
_Put one in the chamber whenever I'm feelin this anger_  
_Don't wanna make excuses, cause this is how it is_  
_What's the use unless we're shootin no one notices the youth_  
_It's just me against the world baby_

Dave sat within his own room, blogging about plenty of things.

Three separate tabs stood open on his computer, all of which contained a separate draft for the same post.

He typed fast, editing and deleting, editing and deleting, before settling on letting his thoughts run.

On his most recent draft, he pressed submit faster than he could edit and delete the post, and covered his face when it was done.  

Dirk stumbled into the room with another short yawn, and again placed his hand at the base of his neck.

“Come on, dude. Your food is going to get cold again, and we all know how the fuck you get when you haven’t eaten.” 

“nah man- im hot on the trail of turning out my best criticism yet

the grass has been too green for dane cook and im on the precipice of cutting it all down

burning that shit

laying waste to his countryside and selling the land out to a bank from a neighboring town who wants to repurpose it for a small-scale YMCA

fucker be like-”

“Just get into the damn kitchen, or I’m dragging you there.” 

And so Dirk eventually had to physically pull Dave away from the computer, all the while Dave shouted about how he just got up to 60WPM in typing, and he needed to test his digits out.

At the sight of Dirk dragging Dave toward their chairs, Bro laughed again and set their plates on the counter, immediately causing their behavior to change for the better.

They sat down gracefully on their respective stools (one marked with a red ‘D’, the other with an orange ‘D’), awaiting their food.

After inspecting what laid before them, their hands shot up to ask for their respective juices. Anticipating what they would say already, Bro set one cup of orange juice and one cup of apple juice in front of them, causing them to happily thank him in unison.

Dirk then ran back out of the room to get Cal, situating him on his lap before eating. 

* * *

Dirk’s dream switched forward a few years.

Dirk stood at 16 with a test in his hand. With his free hand, he pulled at his throat, looking to the side.

‘95’.

Bro paced across the room.

“….The fuck we gonna do with you, the fuck can we possibly do. We can probably get you to act a little stupider, or. Intentionally flunk some tests. They can’t fucking possibly.”

Dirk ripped up the paper, trashing it.

“…….Look. I know I got a 92 last year, and 90 before that. But maybe I can play it off as an accident. Just go in for repeated sessions and junk the-“

Bro held him up by the collar.

“You can’t fucking erase shit like that, you think others haven’t tried? What makes you think you can outsmart other 90s?” 

Dirk kept his gaze fixated at the side, saying nothing.

Bro let go of him, moving to hug him afterward.

“There’s still a few years. There’s still a few years. They might change, they might cut it. It aint working like they expected.”

Bro left into another room, beginning to yell at Dave. Muffled fighting could be heard through the walls, which ended with the sound of a wooden door closing.

Likely Dave being put back into his ‘thoughtspace’ for a time out.

Dirk held onto Cal.

* * *

 Dirk’s dream switched to when he was 17.

At 1 AM, Dirk wheezed in and out, thoroughly in the throes of another panic attack. He struggled to keep himself silent, clenching his throat in the hopes of giving himself back some semblance of control.

His dream that night involved the bed again. The metal bed. He imagined himself being split in half, the saw blade running up along his torso before waiting at the side of his neck, inevitably causing his head to fall to the floor.

He closed his eyes and willfully ceased his breathing, which after a moment’s passage, resulted in a few stunted hacks. Out of necessity, he took a large breath back in, exhaling and inhaling himself slowly back into a calm.  

The area around his eyes reddened.

Compared to prior years, his skin looked exceptionally pale.

He held onto Cal, resting his head down into his hat.

* * *

 Dirk’s dream switched to earlier in the year.

Bro stood at the door with a metal pipe in hand and loudly argued, but was inevitably shoved down, beaten and detained by Alternian officials.

Dirk, in the midst of another panic attack, held his throat as he walked out of his room. His gasps were loudly audible, which caused several of the soldiers to turn head toward the room he emerged from.

He slowly made his way into the room with a hand on his neck, dragging a sword against the floor with his free hand.

“Stop.”

He raised the sword toward them.

He removed the hand from his neck.  

Weakly, the sword began to shift.

He poised it so that he could easily slice off his own neck, only to be stopped by Dave behind him.

He let go of the sword, his glasses slipping down to reveal his wide, bloodshot eyes.

Dave could only nod as they ripped Dirk from his hands.

Dave remained standing while Dirk screamed curses.

Dave remained standing while they roughly dragged and tossed Dirk into the back of a truck.  

He clenched his fists, a solitary tear falling to the floor as he moved to help Bro up.

The truck didn’t contain anything sort of metal benches to sit on.

The soldiers held discussions as they would ordinarily, musing over music and gas prices, some of which could be heard in the back by Dirk.

He sat alone.

In the solitary space of the truck driving to the Eternity Center for the conversion, he cursed at himself.

He subtly held himself and let go repeatedly, as if repeating the motion would make Cal appear.  

* * *

 Dirk laid sleeping on the couch, attempting to hold the Cal he no longer owned.

 

 


	6. Exploration

 The night of July 4th

Jake ran across the apartment in pursuit of several items. First, he went into the bathroom to acquire a basic med kit (making sure to subsequently dig through the surrounding cabinet for extra bandages to add in). Then, he traveled to his bedroom to gather two blankets, making sure that they would be thick enough to stifle the feel of grass if sat on. He used the blankets as a sling to contain the medkit, resting them overtop his bed. Not leaving the bedroom quite yet, he looked into a drawer underneath the television, purely in search of a black camera he typically used to photograph bones before and after their evaluation. Jake placed the camera next to the med kit within the sling, progressing to the living room to let the items rest.

Once within the room, he deposited all of the items in an olive green bag, already equipped with three water bottles in a pouch at the side.

Dirk checked over everything, idly checking the names down off a checklist he kept in hand. (Jake wrote the short list two days before the endeavor started just to ensure that he wouldn’t forget anything, but inevitably didn’t trust himself enough not to lose the list, resulting in it ending up in Dirk’s possession.)

 “….And we should be good to go…….wherever it is that we’re going.”

Slinging the bag across his shoulder, Jake triumphantly replied:

“We are going to be moving ourselves into a little area I came across on an expedition one day. It is not frequently traversed and it is not marked by any sort of sign, but it is no more than a mile down from the south side of the city where all of the plant shops congregate. For that matter my cousin jade lives no more than a block away from that little avenue. ”

(This meant that the place at hand was no more than two miles away from their current location.)

And so, Dirk moved to open the door for Jake, holding it there while Jake walked out with their belongings for the day. Out of the apartment, Dirk walked to stand beside him, pocketing his hands as they pressed a button to signal the elevator before them to come up.

On the way, initially, Jake silently walked. He placed a firm hand over his mouth whenever Dirk would question where they were headed to.

First, he ran around a shopping district, weaving through the signs and waving to the vendors. Dirk followed. He turned a corner into an alleyway. He hopped onto a closed dumpster, jumping over a small fence before progressing on. Dirk followed. He stopped to smell some flowers in the plant district (deliberately avoiding the roses) before walking overtop a portion of road failed to be completed, ending abruptly. Dirk followed. No more than a yard to their front stood a functioning, but seemingly misplaced street light in a patch of paved dirt, marking where brown faded into uncut grass.

“This is it!”

The land before them filled itself overwhelmingly with the aforementioned wild grass, though small patches throughout showed only dirt. Varied, purple flowers grew out of the thick green, but always assembled few and far between, never in a patch. Some of the flowers didn’t look particularly tall, some looked as though they hardly rose out of the grass line, and some looked dead. Nobody appeared to be present in the grass itself, but buildings and people could be seen in the distance from the city they emerged out of. The view from the other side just displayed a fading image of the rest of the expanse, seemingly limitless in its reach. The area had an odd sort of enchantment about it, distant enough to classify as its own space, close enough to fail to remove itself from the larger city in front of it.

“………”

Jake dropped his packed bag in the grass. He twirled around in place, letting himself fall onto the ground afterward. Once on the ground, he laughed wholeheartedly, the pattern of his laugh changing now and again to be faster or slower, eventually deviating into a snort.

“Before you go off on a tangent- the theatrics were completely necessary for this spot I assure you. It is the only place where someone can get decent stargazing in. And before you go and ask how exactly i marvelously chanced upon this spot of nature- down some ways there was a small bird skull. It marked the first one that I ever found.”

Dirk sat down in the grass, laying down beside Jake. He looked up at the sky, illuminated only by the white glow of the stars within.

“Because you've already taken care of the questions that I was totally going to ask, my brother once collected those. Just general skulls and bones, I mean. Albeit, he had a terrible hoarding problem, and the variations of animal he collected them from were indiscriminate in nature. Well, okay. He discriminated against picking up human skulls, thankfully.”

Jake laughed again, turning on his side to face Dirk.

“Tell me- did he at least keep them properly?”

Dirk’s eyes shifted to Jake.  

“While I don’t know what constitutes your idea of ‘proper’, he would keep them in small jars, with just a notch less volume than the typical size of a jar used for jam or honey. Typically, he wouldn’t need to buy any more than three or four jars at a time because all he could find were small shells or portions of bone. He could probably stuff 20 or so in there without issue, not that he ever went over ten. Not to mention a few occasions where birds dropped down and took a few pieces of bone he failed to properly clean.”

“That is a damned shame. Everything said just now, that is. I have personally never been stricken by an abundance, but I have been able to locate a fair amount of bone, thankfully due to the efforts of some people working with me. Once I was given some ideas toward where they might show up in greater numbers, I stopped pecking around toward Jade’s gardens, and started moving out over here, where the expanses are touched less frequently and there’s less city to be accounted for.”

“So basically, you had to get others to help your sorry ass out.”

“At least I have an ass to speak for!”

Jake turned on his other side and began to reach through his bag for the blankets at the bottom.

Resisting the temptation to look down while he was turned, Dirk shifted his eyes away from Jake.

Jake soon hit him in the face with a thrown blanket.

After a few moment’s worth of effort, both blankets in the bag were spread out proper. Both of the boys laid back down again.

Soon, the only light that casted over them came from the stars and the streetlight, the streetlight flickering now and again.

“So. Let me just run an out of the blue hypothetical here. If you had one thing that you wanted, and you could theoretically receive it without any sort of negative repercussion, or violation to a rule of mass, physics, or otherwise, what would that be?”

“Do I genuinely look like the friggin type that would be concerned with violating scientific law?”

“True.”

“To answer your question *despite your idiosyncratic presumptions*- I would very much like to explore the world. And if that answer isn’t valid because it is not something physical in nature, then I would very much like to get a boat so that I may use it to explore the world.”

“Oh really?”

“Why yes! Who the hell wants to be confined within this stuffy little hellhole all their lives?”

Dirk laughed, placing a hand over his face.

“How the fuck do you think I feel?”

“Oh well excuse me mr robot I wasn’t aware that only the immortals were allowed to dislike living here.”

The streetlight began to flicker more rapidly.

“Just focus on the damn stars. Look at that shit. Bright as hell. Thousands of them. The reason we left the house for once.”

“Speak for yourself dirk! You should know better than anyone that I am out of the house plenty.”

“You spend most of the day on Netflix.”

“BORDERLINE OMNIPOTENT NETFLIX MIND YOU!!”

The street lamp shut off completely, as did most other lights in town.

Surprised at the change, Jake immediately sat up. Dirk looked at Jake before gradually propping himself up, standing to view the city.

Quiet disgruntled cries could be heard from their current position, with several people entering the streets. Some walked out their doors only to turn back inside once others were seen.

A faint rumbling began to take the land. Then something stronger. Something stronger still.

The ground around the outskirts of the city began to crumble, causing Dirk to grab Jake and drag him to the unfinished portion of street they walked upon not long ago. Jake dragged his bag along with him, allowing the blankets to stay where they were.

The blankets fell down with the rumble, down, down down as Dirk held onto Jake's arm, pulling him back as far as he would allow.

Eventually, in the aftermath of the shaking, there only stood a wide, mile long gap that appeared to run all the way around the city’s perimeter, so meticulous in its crafting that the curve of the circle was near perfect. Its depth ran for an indeterminable distance, showing only black and the faint gleam of metal if looked into. Every portion of ground they laid upon was gone. Most portions of the grassland that they could see were gone. The city behind them sat unfettered short of untethered items falling down off windowsills, the screams of the people now becoming fully audible to them.

Suddenly, out of the deep abyss rose a thick wall of black and red, completely filling the gap. It climbed and climbed, slowly reaching only as high as what would block sight of what laid outside of it. A turn of the head would reveal the same for all directions the abyss ran to. Without a moment's pause, up out of that wall came a layer of clear material, stretching and growing to inevitably cover the whole of the city like the covering of a cage. It sealed with a heavily audible click, the center expanding to form an elegant steel circle with a red letter "A" in the middle.

Jake and Dirk stood on their unfinished road, standing in shock as the streetlight beside them turned on again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this marks the first real cliffhanger.  
> Please, a moment of silence for the blankets lost this day.


	7. Barriers

Jake immediately ran forward to inspect the barrier wall.

The brick on the reachable base portion felt no texturally different from that of normal brick, but because of the immensity of the complex, an onlooker could quickly get the impression that the material would be far harder to break or damage. Along it in all directions, there appeared to be no buttons or switches, or indents, or visible doors, lending the idea that the complex might not be escapable to the civilian mass.

Cold. Overwhelmingly, the wall felt cold.

Jake let his hands slowly slide down against the wall, soon turning to face Dirk with an uncertain smile.

“They’ve. On the other side of town there’s surely a door.”

“…..Right. For the time being, let’s just get back inside. For all we know, they might be explaining things right now.”

Jake nodded and began to walk away. Dirk turned an eye back toward the wall before beginning to tell Jake a story from his prior home, only for the purpose of serving as a distraction.

* * *

 

At the apartment, Jake lay sprawled out across the couch with his arms folded above his torso. Dirk stood at the back of the couch, resting his arms down along the top.

Their television already sat turned on by the time they came back home, playing a broadcast from an area just outside of the capital. A small crowd of reporters stood by a single podium. The mayor stood behind it with a mic.  

“We’re here live with the prestigious mayor of Alternia city- Scratch. Now as I’m sure you already know, several civilians have taken concern with the safety precautions launched today. How would you respond to them?”

Scratch is a white haired gentlemen of no more than 30 years of age, the pioneer of the societal robotics program, and first experimental human to android convert. Regardless of having an excess of staffers available to pull in for him, he always speaks personally when there’s disruptions in the public, and always writes his own material. Notable for his white suits, green ties, eloquence in speech, and bizarre humor, his presence is said to be that which calms nations.

“It is only natural for the conscientious citizens of this town to be concerned. If anything, their quickness to action is a signifier that our educational initiatives worked with all of the efficacy they were intended to hold. Belaying this for the moment, I can assure everyone in Alternia that the walls are merely a precaution, a safeguard against others who dare to challenge the remainder of our powerful, now untouchable republic. Despite what they can hope to muster should they get……touchy, we have an unassailable, constant guard to look over us. ”

“Wow! While that does take care of some of the worry sprung from the recent Beforan conflict, with the measures up, if the civilians wanted to leave, could they?”

“Of course. With the proper, meager sum of required papers filed through the relations centers, leaving is a task that can be done. While the process will take more time to enact, and it is advised that all of those who are bound for journeys plan far ahead, it also comes along with a better evaluatory process for those entering to better syphon out those who may leech from our resources.”

“….Some have concerns that this may disrupt importing and exporting goods. Have you prepared any measures to circumvent both issues?”

Scratch smirked, as if fully anticipating the answer beforehand.

“I believe it would be most prudent to handle the case of exporting before all else. Should there be items that need to be sold externally of the remains of our republic, all they have to do is undergo a brief process of registration similar to that for recreational transportation. There will be no excessive and unfair limitations placed on product, and no fee higher than what was present before the minor shift in policy.

As for imports- I am proud and overjoyed to announce that we no longer will be needing to pull many items from other countries. As a few are aware, we’ve taken some significant population declines, and what used to be a nation state has come down to a large city. But fear not- no longer will we ever have to worry about drought or famine. Our diligent city labs have taken to concocting a substitute for food which lends enough energy for a span of two weeks, and takes on any flavor that the user wills it to take.

In light of efficiency and safety- rigorous tests are being done on the food replacements to ensure that there will be no untoward side effects of consumption. And while we aim to one day make it a staple in this land, the population will always have plenty of other options.

Though, seeing as it’s as efficient as it is delightful, I’m sure that everyone will be keen on it.”

Are there any further questions?”

One of the interviewers raised their hand, beginning to speak with a smile.

“Scratch- the world has to know. How do you do it?”

“Well- I’m not one to be much of a braggart, but I’m also not one to share my secrets.”

After some forced laughing, the broadcast faded to a screen over the capital, fading again to a series of notes about the changes, playing on repeat. The music in the background, to all those not acclimatized to it, would seem perfectly annoying, especially because of the over-emphasis on trumpets.

The sound eventually faded to silence, the notes beginning to look more like warnings in suit.

For that night, the broadcast and the tethered follow up material was scheduled to repeat until the next morning, cut out for regular programing during the day, and subsequently, through the next few nights, repeat until morning again.

* * *

 

Jake pouted and groaned at the aftermath of the conference, and huffed loudly.

“Diiiiiiiiiirk. Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirk!”

“Yes?”

“This blows in every way possible! It is not just a three dimensional blow either. It comprises eleven of them!”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, it's 1:30 am, awesome.
> 
> When I'm conscious again, this chapter in particular may be edited back again, so make sure to be checking back on it after tomorrow's releases. Tomorrow will likely be another dual release day to compensate for some slack (attributed largely to other work).  
> For those attempting to read Doc's text on phones- good luck, and may the force be with you.
> 
> (As a general rule here, if you see a rather large blot of unexplainable blank space followed by a question, highlight it.)


	8. Proximity

A morning one year later

Dirk and Jake sat down in a well-lit coffee shop, each taking one side of a quaint red booth.

_A curious aspect of being within propinquity to another person for an extended period of time is that details about the opposing person, which once sat as simple truth, become boorish, something reviewed millions of times. Naturally, there’s a predisposition to collect more information about that person in order to further grant those interactions some value._

Dirk carefully noted that today, instead of going with his pattern of ordering a new coffee flavor every time, Jake requested the same type of cappuccino that he sipped on the last visit. Dirk himself went with his ordinary hazel cup, which Jake jested about simply because he thought better than to keep anything constant.

_While there are any range of emotions that might be elicited by the rise in information, the most common are disgust and infatuation. Resting with a further affordance of information results in the solidification and strengthening of these ideas, which inevitably will result in hate or love._

While he had no conceivable excuse for it, Jake left his jacket at home. He only wore shorts and a Deadpool shirt, specifically, the nicest shorts he owned and the nicest variant upon a Deadpool shirt he could find. Dirk wore one of his short sleeves, which was short enough to allow greater portions of his arms to be seen than usual, but long enough to prevent view of a small tattoo of one of his brother’s comic characters.

_These feelings are further malleable as new experiential knowledge on the behalf of both people accrues. However, they gradually become more costly to waver. For instance, someone may not feel attached to a pile of paper accidentally left on their desk. But as the days go by, more paper may be added into the exact same place in space for the purpose of organization, eventually collecting in a prevalent pile. That person may decide their feelings circumstantially; perhaps having their friends view it would be undesirable, but having a singular place to focus their efforts on clears their mind from having to separate individual partitions of the pile, or even take notice of it._

Dirk ordered his food with a bit more levity in his voice than usual, making sure to smooth out his tone. Jake, jovial in demeanor as ever, took to ordering his food like a gentleman instead of a pseudo-gentlemen. Somehow, it resembled bells chiming.

_But in the end, there will come a day where the pile becomes so large that the owner will have to make an absolute decision about how they feel about it, good or bad, and then act upon that feeling. If only because their environment warping to that extreme dictates a limitation or expansion upon their freedom of will. The papers can be tossed and the desk and floor can be cleared, or they can be left remaining and another desk can be purchased for housing new things. It’s timely and exhausting to go into cleaning, and it’s timely and annoying to go and buy another desk. In the end, one would be liable to balance the two extremes and weigh out which took the least from them._

Jake turned his eyes to the side, and placed one of his hands behind his own neck. He sat up straight against the red fabric of the booth.

“With all of the stipulation on attire lately, you must have thought me to be one to begin taking social convention to heart. Rather unfortunately it is not the case that I have simply begun to take up the tongues from the metal devil. My decision to forgo-“

“You don’t have to continue. I mean, it is pretty fucking weird that you decided to drop something that you wear on the day by day. But as a lucky divergence from timing my questioning now, I planned to sass you up about it after you ate your eggs. Not a moment before, purely because the gripping nature of my rebukes toward your invalidation of habit would have been so substantial that it would have taken too much energy from you otherwise.”  

Dirk picked up his coffee, and kept his eyes fixated on Jake as he took a sip. In the aftermath, he let his attention direct itself to setting the cup back down. He relaxed back in his chair.   

“Oh hardy hahahaha and a hypothetical flipped bird. Would I be so encumbered by the audacity of your verbosity that I would fall to the floor? Would the magnitude be so great that I would not be able to sustain my position up on this seat? Oh no- someone please come save me from the ruffian who can’t mind his manners for two minutes.”

Jake feigned a faint, and gradually slinked down for effect.

“Tremble, motherfucker. My only objective this morning is to see you wet yourself on the marble of the ground, and rot as a decaying mass of fenestrated vitriol.”

Jake’s shoes touched against Dirk’s leg, which caused them both to freeze in silence until the waitress came by with their food. She asked where his friend scuttled off to, resulting in him explaining that he went off to the bathroom.

After she was out of sight, Jake scrambled up off of the floor, looking at Dirk silently with a perfectly red face.

Dirk nodded.

Jake nodded back, and placed a hand over his face before poking at his eggs.

* * *

 

 After breakfast, Dirk and Jake walked out of the diner.

“Thank you for speaking up back there man. I do not know what I would have done if you vocalized my position underneath the table.”

“You would have likely attributed it to an intentional act of an adventurer or played it off like you had to find a dropped utensil, which would have proved to be foolish because the utensils would be visibly on the table, and you would have nothing to show in hand.”

“A year has gone by and you’re still taking my rhetorical insinuations of ignorance seriously.”

“A year has gone by and you’ve yet to take up my deliberative coaching toward getting you to be more particular about your language.”

Jake laughed, punching his arm.

“Shut up you friggin stick in the mud.”

“I can’t help my predisposition toward helping you, Jake. I can only accept that I’m in a mess of dirt and need to shoot out in pursuit of an answer like a rapacious vulture in pursuit of carrion. Caught in my tumultuous cycle between starvation and petulant squawking in the middle of jack nowhere, I am forced to hold you at the shoulders and shove you into the bubbling mosh pit that is literal interpretation.”

Dirk smirked and punched him back.

“For real though, I wouldn’t have put you through that. Maybe in those first couple of weeks, but now that you’re kind of cool-“

“So you do admit that I have some charm to me then?”

“I’m not done. Now that you’re kind of cool, but still mostly lame-“

“Hey!!”

“I feel like it would be a waste to do harm by you. Aint nothing to get riled up about, I just felt like letting you know that I can be trusted with a modicum of responsibility on picking you back up from your mistakes. Your propensity to talk excessively in the aftermath of buying a new comic isn't helping in my constant battle to keep my moral pendulum swaying in your favor, but....You know. I'm here for you. Or painfully placed in an antiquated and cliché way, I have your back. ”

“Even with your nit-picking woven delicately woven into your syntax I have to concede that I am, again, very thankful for what you have done today.”

“...I regret to inform you that my prior statement was an interlude to my larger rebuke against your tendency to- “

“You don’t actually have a coherent following argument do you. You are just manifesting a bunch of malarky out of houdini's hoo haa purely to get my goat.”

“Hahaha. Wait and see at home.”

“Unfair! See if I ever let you into that home again.”

“No, dude- hahaha, slow the fuck back down.”

“Fat chance naysayer! By the time I get there you will have to beg and offer up one mighty fine trade in order to be allowed into the sweet caress of your room again. I have a better mind to let you sleep with the dogs. Woof woof!”  

“So that’s how we’re playing.”

“Wait just a- No! Now you have to slow back down! Its no fun if the spoilsport gets there first. Dirk!!!”

They reached their room at the same time.

Dirk laughed near the door as Jake wheezed and opened it. Jake smiled as he struggled to catch his breath, lapsing into laughter as he left the door open for Dirk.

 

 


	9. Dinner (Part one)

 The afternoon of July 4th, 2501

Dirk laid down on the bed in his room, sorting through his thoughts.

The room he laid within, formally known as Jake’s infinite space room, took on a number of changes from its original appearance. Several lights were placed around the outskirts of the room to brighten it, with one large mentally-controllable puck light placed on the ceiling to keep everything lit. On the walls laid a series of things close to what Dirk possessed in his prior home: maps, pop-culture posters, robot schematics, and portions of papers that he took to writing himself. (He now had a habit of writing out long-winded expositions on philosophy, or on the quality of one particular piece of media or another, all of which he tacked up on the north side of the room while they were still in a state of being incomplete.) The floors were barren short of an assemblage of books (split between porn and historical works at an almost exact divide), and a collection of puppets which he hand sewed on his lonesome while Jake was out of the house. He never bothered to move them at all (both the puppets and the books, that is).

On the day prior, he purchased the first bit of materials to begin working on an automated rap program. The program, and other programs based upon other singing styles, were not unordinary for the musicians of the time to work on, and are best comparable in frequency to the appearance of programs like FL studio. Belaying the fact that he could be spending time on projects of abnormal worth, and had several innovations of significant innovative value to be focusing on, Dirk took on the rap project due to where his strongest interests laid.

Within his mind, he searched himself for concepts worthwhile to use within this program at an innate, so that when he inevitably assembled a voice box and put it within an automaton to use, he would have a challenging rival to practice rap with. Hence far, these concepts included affirmations of verbal dominance, social criticism, governmental criticism, historical commentary, expressions of emotion, compilations of pop-culture references, and expressions of relative intelligence. He moved expressions of objective intelligence to his thoughts on slam cadence, but refrained from adding it within his prior pile of concepts.

Jake stood by the door, tentatively placing his hand outside of it to knock. He held his fist in the air, slowly moving it forward, all before quickly walking off again to his own bedroom in haste. Once there, he put his face in the nearest pillow.

Dirk began to internally write some lines:

_Gone without a trace,_

_Words without a messenger,_

_Deck it up with lace,_

_Note it down like Schlesinger,_

_Got the pulchritude of a Lovecraftian monstrosity,_

_Got the ostentatious flavor of a blood orange verbosity,_

_But I’m Clockwork, a bourgeoisie without droogs,_

_Movement Clockwise, a repartee without troops,_

Attempting to come in once more, Jake walked back to the exterior of Dirk’s door. He took a small breath in and knocked on the door three times. Loudly.

“…I know that you have a strong inclination to remain on your lonesome whilst hanging around in there, but can I come in?”

Dirk slowly sat up, and saved what little progress on his lines he held so far. He slowly moved his legs so that they hung over the side of the bed, and rested in place a moment before responding.

“No, I’m currently spending my time vigorously jacking off to a picture of Satan dry humping a goat. You are free to enter at your own sick discretion, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”  

Jake smiled to himself and input the necessary entrance command to the room, looking slightly disgruntled as the rudimentary voice command uttered out from above.

"Welcome, user code: Cagefanboy589"

After standing within the room, Jake flooded with a feeling of uncertainty. His hands clasped together toward the base of his shirt, his fingers weaving one over another. His eyes fell on Dirk for brief intervals only, mostly fixating on the adjacent walls. His feet pointed toward one another at the forefoot, and spaced themselves closer together than usual, rather than his typical manner of keeping them some ways apart. All of which was regularly punctuated by him raising a hand to adjust his glasses. While it had yet to become apparent to Dirk, to Jake, the change in his own demeanor felt ostentatious, and more than a little blatant.  

“We have more or less made it a habit to keep our dinner consumption to things around the house here, but I would like to entertain the idea of diverging a bit, if only because it has gotten just a bit banal to keep a repeated sequence to our days. There is this small classy joint just around the bend three blocks down and. To refrain from further beating around a bush or two- would you like to go there with me tonight?”

Dirk stood up, and folded his arms one over the other. He kept his eyes fixated on Jake through his black frames. He didn’t bother closing any bit of the distance yet.

“First and foremost, I have never stepped foot in relative proximity to that area, so I can safely assume that my dining experience will be filled with the apex of what the exciting and mysterious three blocks away has to offer. Second on deck, I really appreciated our prior way of doing the exact same sporadic things at regular intervals. It added so much spontaneity to what otherwise would be a perfectly mundane process of being interesting. Third without an appending detail to flourish it, I’m cool with paying for it. Fuck it. Sure we can go.”

Jake stepped forward, shook his head, and outstretched a hand as if confronted with something reprehensible, soon moving that hand to rest on his own opposing arm.

“No you fully misunderstand. I am only bringing up the offering because I would very much like to be the one covering the payment of the entire evening from start to finish. You see- after that extension upon monetary opportunities hit down, I realized that I could begin making some money at the local range by developing my shooting arm. Not that I really had a bunch to focus on because heaven knows that I can shoot like a king on war season or fight like a knight when they are told that winter is descending. But the point that stands is that I am in a place where I can afford to pay for things of the sort now and again, and I would very much like to pay this time.”

Dirk raised a brow.

“……Considering the vague description of this place that you laid down, I couldn’t possibly take that much from you dude. You’re doing enough by paying for food on the day by day.”

“But you are taking care of the rent by 50% at the least, and taking care of a number of other day to day things out of consideration of your class tier. If anything it would be a reparation for some of the work you have had to extol in the aftermath of being repositioned. I have not a single idea in the brain about how much work was divided between your brothers at your prior home but I can imagine-“

“…..Okay, okay. But if the cost is found to be unfairly exhaustive of your paper stash, I reserve the right to pay for us.”

“Agreed! Make sure to be ready to leave the home come 8! And do not wear any slackers clothing because you will be sitting amidst some of the high brows of this division and i am certain that they will be liable to astutely demolish your patoot verbally if you are found in anything less than a suit.”

And so, Jake immediately ran to his room to make preparations for the night. Dirk laid back down in bed and continued his lines.

_“I don’t mean to expatiate to the point of inundation,_

_But your egress is far swifter than the ideal stagnation,_

_I fully intend to elucidate on your inevitable prostration,_

_But I digress your finesse is far closer to denigration,_

_Check the halcyon syncopation,_

_Washing over your subjugation,_

_……File to be continued at a later date.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has left Kudos on this work- Thank you very much! I greatly appreciate it, and I'm honestly more than a little flattered with how many have come this early in the game.
> 
> To everyone who has left Kudos on this work and are currently forming an angry mob about the two days without chapter updates- I know. I know. The outlines are being prepped, the WIPS are being arranged, my Alphasmart is being lubbed. I'll get this covered. I got you.


	10. Dinner (Part 2)

8:05 PM on July 4th, 2501

From the grand piano at the far right corner of the room, one note emanated. Then another. Then another. With the graceful movement of the pianist’s hands, the dining hall filled with [a full-bodied melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQovVZXREOo), ebbing and swaying as the speech of the attendees pulsed against it in the eventuality of jovial, peaceful conversation. The tune was calming, yet sobering. Soothing, yet disconcerting. Irrefutably executed well. Although only a few tips sat within the glass jar atop the ebony of the piano, those in proximity to the euphony swore that they sat in the presence of a master.

Walls white, floor brown wood; the restaurant at hand stood most notable for its affordance of sumptuous decorations. The ceiling featured a solitary, ornate chandelier, with the individual pieces shaped like diamonds. White lace tablecloths sat atop brown tables splayed across the middle of the floor. At the left, raised portions of the floor propped up red and black booths, shadowed by a red overhanging cloth. Across the walls on all sides, long red tapestry hung down, accenting the spaces between photographs and paintings of Alternia’s most famous.  At the back, a large, gold-framed portrait of Rose Lalonde, the infamous author and playwright, solitarily hung. Underneath it laid a letter personally written by her, the content of which consisted purely of complimenting the service of the establishment.

For all of the marvels, the eating space was considerably less fancy than the average eatery around the capital. The dining space was smaller. The workers’ uniforms were considerably cheaper, and less detailed.  The chefs (due to a smaller relative count of them) had a harder time producing meals for the floor. The dining menu was significantly smaller, and the dishes within featured less variety in their ingredients. Despite this, the establishment carried the same general feeling of excellence, and its customers regarded it fondly.

 “….Now I am going to spare you details about some of my less fortunate excursions, as I am sure you are prone to doing as well. Regardless of this, I do have one heck of a notable tale pent up in my noggin that will make for a lovely use of word.  Back when the walls were down, just outside of the city boundaries, there laid an underground metal pipe system unattached to any buildings by virtue of distance and apparent direction. You see, when looking down into the base, it only curved away from the town, lending the implication that it has nothing to do with any city facility. Furthermore, due to lack of signs or otherwise, and due to the slight bit of a cover slopped 3/4ths over the top, the pipe asserted itself as an unmarked aberration.  Naturally, I took it upon myself to plot a trip right on down in there to see what in heaven’s name could possibly be going on.”

Jake sat with one arm propped up on the booth he shared with Dirk, allowing his passion for the tale to hasten the pace at which he told it.  

Perhaps the care in his tone could be attributed to one of many abnormal nodes of particularity that came with his behavior tonight. Both Dirk and Jake took care to dress in suits tonight, though for Jake, it ended at the shirt top. He paired his gray jacket with gray shorts and a white bow tie. Wisely, Jake decided to suggest that they arrive at the restaurant on their own time, allowing him to lay back long enough to slip on the outfit without Dirk commenting on how bad of an idea it was. Dirk, contrarily, wore one of his better suits, all black with an orange tie. While Dirk predictably thought Jake’s outfit looked horrendous, Jake continually gave himself reasons to find charm in Dirk’s. At times, too many reasons, causing him to sway thought toward the safety of WAB.  

“I walked back to my home and began preparations- of what I thought relevant, I only took rope and a few basic materials. The following day I scaled down the visible portion of the pipe into the metal abyss itself…..and boy was I strung up a new belfry once there. The scenery within was nothing less than completely and inextricably surreal. Vines and other plants came down from the sides of the metal and grew into these quaint and darling garden esc. patches on the floor. Looking down the visible hallway revealed sight of a seemingly endless path. The immensity of the system gave me the entire mind to turn back to save the proceedings for another day but something about the place felt all too compelling for that! So here I was without guide nor reason, traversing through the pipeward land. While none of the fauna proved to be dangerous in the least, the enclosure steadily became smaller as I proceeded.  Albeit the shrinking wasn’t truly noticeable until I came to a bamboozling turn of hall which lead into no more than five separate paths.”

As he listened along, Dirk could not shake the feeling that the speech would bore him if Jake relayed it in any other manner. Jake's intonation and general enthusiasm filled the tale with a life rarely captured by everyday speakers. It was exuberant and quick paced, but woefully long.

He found himself leaning back against the cushion of his seat, all the while Jake leaned forward in his own. 

“I traversed down through the hallways, down down along them until I came into one marked with several skulls. It’s um.”

Jake looked to the side, resting a hand behind his neck.

“You see. My collection habits with skeletons and otherwise occasionally leaps past my good sense. At the sheer thought that the path might have lead into a repository of remains, I leapt at the chance to collect them. So what do I do but follow down the rabbit hole.”

If only to pause Jake’s speech to allow the server walking forward to gain word, Dirk said:

“Risky move, Alice. All manner of crazy shit could have happened down there.”

He smirked as the waiter visited the table. While Dirk ordered orange crush (to be poured into a wineglass, of course), Jake decided to order legitimized wine. (As the argument went until the law’s release; if we are predisposed to be killed and become immortal at 18, all 18 year olds and older, regardless of circumstance, should be allowed to vicariously inhale liquid depressants. Or something like that.)

Jake smiled, and continued his speech with full understanding of Dirk's prior intent. 

“Dirk last time I checked we came here to have ourselves a *good evening*. Not a standoff about the little details that nobody bothers to crack their craniums about to begin with. Now then. As it turns out, following a path marked with skulls most certainly means that it is predisposed to be something daunting and not a cool metal bound cemetery brimming with remains to collect.”

Dirk laughed. Hard.

“You are such a fucking weird ass.”

Jake stuck his tongue out (as you tend to do when you have ceased caring about decorum).

Not long after, drinks arrived to the table. After proper ‘thank yous’ had been distributed, Jake picked up his glass and took a sip. At the taste of the liquid, he attempted to contain a slight cringe, but failed.

As a result, Dirk stood up from the table, walking over to the waiter to ask for a glass of water. They obliged and took to task. Jake looked poised to rescind the order but.

“Um. Thank you.”

Inevitably, he decided to be grateful for Dirk's forethought instead.

He cleared his throat.    

“As I was saying- by following that path I came across….not a traditional fire or rock trap like one might find in a indiana jones film, but a computer room filled with about a hundred broken screens. Or rather, upon being tested they proved to be broken. None of them would turn on for anything.  Every machine in there was perfectly dysfunctional, and there had to be ten separate tech desks at minimum.

In the middle of the floor sat this exceptionally strange emblem. I thought I might have acted as a signifier for a group of some sort, but I haven’t an idea in the world as to what it could possibly mean. Further poking around the room didn’t lead into anything significant finds either as toward explanations…...but!”

“But?”

“But there was this awesome side-room designated for the collection of no more than three or four skulls (perfectly dusty ones at that), and I snatched them all right up! I then slowly got my ass out of that place because, well. Regardless of whether or not the purpose of that place had any larger significance, I wasn’t about to let those skulls go to waste. You get me here!”

“I’m going to attempt to take a quick sec to extrapolate the substance out of what you’ve just said. You entered the secret lair to some form of confederacy…..by jumping down a poorly covered open pipe. And then instead of exploring more at that point, you felt content with just taking the skulls and dashing.”

“Yes! No!! I mean. Sort of yes but that is such a lame way to place it!”

Jake laughed with an odd sort of awkwardness about his manner, pulling against his neck as if the assertion that the concept was anything less than inexplicably cool removed a sizable portion of his ego.

“I am perplexed about how you can stand to not be in bewilderment in the aftermath of hearing a kicker like that, regardless of the ending.”

“Okay, okay. In order to salvage your feelings on the matter, I’ll tell you something back, which can go down after we order our damn food.”

While Dirk would normally go for something small, on this night, he matched the relative price of Jake’s meal. As much as conserving funds was a worthwhile endeavor, it struck him as more rude to kick Jake in the ego again by having him pay for himself. He did tolerate Jake, after all. He did like Jake, after all. (They both ordered steak for themselves; Jake medium, Dirk medium rare.)

In the distance, the notes of the pianist began to fade from [the prior tune into a new one.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plrSZmGDV3U)  Without a hitch, the pianist flipped the pages of his music with a single hand, his opposing hand continuing to make swift strokes across the keys. The notes appeared to carry more weight to them. Less of a sense of a calm, with a more immediate emotional weight. The room became more noisy, more lively as a whole. Despite this, the pianist himself showed no noticeable emotion. His hands continued to glide across the piano unfettered. Regardless of whether or not he cared about audience reactions, he kept his eyes fixated on the sheet. 

One of the more affluent patrons walked over to leave a tip in his jar, which to their chagrin resulted in no reaction on his behalf. He simply kept on playing, playing and playing. 

 “As inconclusive and locationally misplaced as your story was, I suppose I owe you some form of information as a trade. When I was younger….to be honest, I wasn’t allowed to travel much. The farthest out that I could reach was to a small beach that laid just outside of my window, which served both as a reminder that nature existed, and that trash existed. On most days, it would be largely barren short of the food shacks or a small concert area. Being the gregarious person that you originally knew me to be, I decided that it would be a magnificent concept to begin charting out all of the areas of the beach that had a stark absence of other people on the day to day. As one might assume, the only area where you’re guaranteed to have that happen is the fucking ocean.”

Dirk rested his back against the chair, and turned his hand whenever he cut himself short. Jake rested his head in one of his hands, keeping his eye’s fixated on Dirk’s shades.

 “On a day where both of my brothers were absent from the house, I walked over to the edge of the beach and dived in. I remember the water being cold, not so much dark until I began to swim down within it. I didn't really have an aim toward where I was going. I didn't really know what I wanted to happen as a result of it. Unfortunately, I was suddenly besieged by…. something. I couldn’t get a good look at who or what attempted to drag me down, but I remember the firm presence of something dark gripping one of my ankles. The water grew darker and darker. For the first few seconds, I couldn’t even think about anything but the change in surroundings. I just. I started kicking at what gripped me, and eventually, it let go. I looked down to see….”

Dirk paused.

“And that’s it.”

Jake snapped out of his haze, and sat up. Attentive.  

“And that’s it??”

“Absolutely.”

“That is a terrible way to end a story dirk! What did you see?”

“I can’t explain with words. And for that matter, it’s better that nobody else knows.”

“Augh! Why do you have to be so predictably obtuse?”

“Because my mystery is at least 50% of my appeal.”   

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it comprises 50%… ”

Jake looked pensive a moment, tightening the hold on his neck by a slight notch.

“It’s far closer to…20%! With everything else a suitably small percentage to sit right along with it. Not that it matters because the rough numerical assignments to the percentiles are low low low. Ehe.”

“Sick burn. Conflagration brazenly accosting a small grassland as we speak.”

Dirk leaned back in his seat, and raised an eyebrow.

As their food arrived, they fell into a quiet. Much like the morning, Jake spend at least 50% of the meal with his face reddened. 

Jake couldn't help but feel discontented with the eventuality of the evening, but he did feel contented with how Dirk seemed to be enjoying it. Dirk thought about how starkly normal the evening was compared to their others, even with the change in setting. Jake wrestled through other stories that he could possibly tell to save his intent. Jake wrestled against whether or not he would even want his intent known or if it was a good intent to have. Dirk looked at Jake and offered him a smirk. Jake came to attention and smiled right on back. Dirk continued eating his food. Jake continued pecking at his food and worrying.

With empty plates and a fresh bill to pay, Jake began to preoccupy his thoughts with sorting it all out. While he was busy, Dirk turned eye to the pianist at the corner of the room.

Almost absolutely in accordance with Dirk's movement, the pianist ceased his playing. He stood up from the small bench he sat at, and for a moment only, stood silently facing the wall. Almost mechanically, he shifted himself around to look at Dirk. While Dirk's view of the man’s face only lasted for a moment, he could have sworn that his eyes were an eerie, hollow white like that of a ghost.

Come to think of it...he looked just like someone Dave had known.

The pianist provided a meager smile before nodding at a slight, as if he heard the thought. A slim pink vein showed overtop his hand as he adjusted his glasses. And with that, he quickly took to walking off, leaving his tip jar present at the piano.  


	11. Dinner (Part 3- Final)

“…I’ll be back soon.”

And with that, Dirk walked after the pianist.

“Dirk?”

Jake stopped the evaluation of his recently received food bill, which laid down on the table in a little black book. He turned his head to see Dirk weaving his way around tables, walking away with firm resolve. While Dirk wasn’t slow to start at any measure, he hastened his pace once the floor cleared of tables and roaming servers. He only stopped to look at the lonely tip jar on top of the ebony piano, quickly continuing forward afterward.

Contrarily, the pianist he followed didn’t stop for anything, not even to turn his head. He kept his pace, quickly leaving out the back door.

Jake stood up in his chair, and watched in frustration as Dirk cleared the door at the back with the other man. Gone. Pensive and irate, he settled back down into his seat, resting his head in one hand. With his free hand, he worked quickly at his signature, pressing down hard with the pen. He couldn’t understand why Dirk left so quickly. He couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t explain where he was going before leaving. Did he have some sort of prior relationship with the man he went after? And if so, why didn’t he speak with him before he sat down at the table? Was it so much of an imperative to wait until the end of the night to interact with him? Was it an imperative to be with him privately?

Not five minutes after the first pianist’s leave, a second, identical pianist walked to the ebony piano. They sat down and tested out a few of the keys, eager to begin their shift for the night. To their earnest surprise, instead of the glass tip jar atop the piano being void of content, there laid a few wayward dollars in it already, along with a handful of change. Grateful, he walked over to the front desk to ask about the soul kind enough to leave money in his absence. Confused, the attendee explained that the second pianist was just at the piano, moreover, he checked in to say he would be starting fifteen minutes earlier than usual.  

The first pianist gracefully continued his walk after he left the restaurant, hastening his pace at the sound of the door behind him opening again. As Dirk followed after him, he attempted to recall his name. His name, what had his fucking name been? He struggled through possibilities as he sped up his pace. If he could at least catch the pianist by the shoulder, he might be able to alert him that he did not follow with an intent to harm. He didn’t need to articulate that he followed because he knew the pianist had to be aware that he was following him, especially with the sound of his footsteps across the alley.  He just had to let him know that he didn’t intend to harm him none. He just wanted to talk.  

“……..Hey-“

No response.

The pianist continued to walk, meticulous about every step he took. The stars in the dark blue sky above caused everything present in the city streets to cast dark shadows across the gray stretches of concrete. The pianist’s own shadow acted to guide Dirk when he slipped out of sight on quick turns, but he never remained out of sight for long. For that matter, he always retained the same amount of distance between Dirk and himself. As Dirk would speed up, he would too. As he would slow, he would too. His turns did not occur at elongated curves, they happened at precise, angular changes in directionality. His feet never dragged once. His arms stayed folded one over the other near his chest. His head always remained held high.  

He weaved through alleys, through busy squares, through pavilions. He walked over bridges and underneath overlaying walkways. He never bumped into anyone. He never bumped into anything.

The night was not particularly cold, but a cold breeze swept across the city now and again. As Dirk felt a sudden chill hit across his neck, brief as it was, a name flickered in his mind.

“John.”

Despite the utterance of, presumably, the proper name- John gave no reaction still.

As the journey became longer and the two became more distant from the restaurant, Dirk carefully watched shop and street signs, and logged what he could into his memory. He kept in mind that he needed to walk back to the restaurant eventually to catch Jake. And if not the restaurant, then he needed to know how to walk back home. He didn’t know how far he needed to walk. He didn’t know how worthwhile the inevitable interaction would be. All he knew is that he needed to speak with John.

After the buildings cleared and John slowed again, Dirk found himself standing at the exterior of a quaint, small park.

Thick trees grew densely around paved paths of brick, with statues of varying size and quality placed sporadically throughout. Vendor stands and trashcans could be seen along the sides of the walkable areas, but not a single person stood in sight. Streetlamps illuminated the ground; all of them emanated a pure, bright white light which mixed with the blue from above.

The path grew lighter and lighter as John proceeded, eventually leading the both of them into a clearing by a fountain.

The marble fountain could best be described as charming. The moon shone bright streaks of white light across the flowing water within it, obfuscated only by a singular statue of a standing angel. She stood with a peaceful expression and a carefully carved, long flowing dress. Water came out of her folded hands, which trickled into a pool below, visibly filled with change from hopeful visitors. Along the exterior, there laid a series of engravings purely of hearts.

John stood just before the base of it, and turned in place. Pure blue eyes, bright warm smile, pale thin hands; he adjusted his glasses before speaking.

“now that we do not have any pesky interlopers hanging about- hello, dirk!”

Dirk smirked, resting a hand against his own forehead.

“...So you are John after all.”

“no shit, sherlock.”

“Don’t give me that. With the shit you just pulled there was reasonable cause for doubt.”

“whatever, dude. we're here now, i'm talking now. just cut to the chase! hehehe.”

“Dammit, John. Anyway, I don’t want to waste too much of your time, because I am sure some of that earlier haste was attributed to having a place to be. Hell, I technically have a place to be. But I really need to ask about Dave.”

“i know this may be a bit of a letdown in the advent of that little path I took you down, but i do not have any place to be right now. what do you need to know about dave?”

“Is he alright?”

“he is perfectly fine! he acts the same, he is not hurt or anything. he still complains about school all the time, and he still leaves me really annoying, weird raps in my inboxes.”    

“….I’m glad to hear it. Or, most of it, anyway.”

“is that all of what you wanted to know?”

“To be perfectly honest, that was all that I needed to know.”

“that is a bit of a letdown.

then again, it would not be the first to happen tonight.  

you did not even remember my name at first, did you.”

Dirk folded his arms.

“No, I didn’t.”

John smiled.

“wow, jerk. I bet you were not even going to compliment my awesome piano playing either. because you are becoming unimaginative and cruel, i have some ideas for things to ask about. why did i pick a location this far off? how did i know that i would not have to speak to bring you here?

and for the record, you should totally just ask those questions back to me. and replace the i’s with yous, that joke is so overdone.”

“Alright, I’ll fucking bite. To preface playing into your game, your playing was lovely.  Why did you pick a location this far off? How did you know that you wouldn’t have to speak to bring you here?”

John stood silently, letting the color of his eyes drain out to white. He again adjusted his glasses, and sure enough, the noticeable pink vein reappeared on the top of his hand. His skin color faded out to an extreme pale, though his cheeks retained some color. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, looking up at the stars as he spoke.

“it is because I have been made better. kind of like you! you have been made much better than you were before. but you harbor too much animosity about it to talk at length about it now. that is okay. i felt like that too for a while. ”   

Dirk remained silent as John spoke, oddly retaining a calm.

“people have different ways of coping with things they cannot control, i guess. I do not like to look at the bright side of things though, because I cannot ever forget that the bad side is there. instead, I just like to warp the bad things into things I can use. they can only hold control for so long, after all. I did not have to go through anything as substantial as what you went through, but i can not really feel normal now. I can not even really explain what this even is. it's kind of like being in a state better than life but worse than death all at once.”  

John looked back to Dirk, and studied him a second before replying.

“you have it terrible, don’t you.”

Dirk looked at John, and flatly replied:

“….Not really. In fact, I wouldn’t describe my current situation that way at all.”

John looked shocked a moment, idly moving a hand across the water behind him.

“is that so?”

“Yeah, I’m taken care of just fine now. I mean, Jake can be overbearing at times, but he’s caring and attentive. Life at home doesn’t feel like a constant struggle anymore. I don’t want to articulate all the differences, but. Before, it kind of felt like being perpetually suspended in some form of sickening anxiety. Even if nothing was happening. Even if I knew nothing would happen. In this new place, I can allow myself to relax. The transition is still something that I’m learning to deal with, but. I’m getting there.”

“dave talks to me sometimes. he talks to me about how much he misses you since you left.”

“I don’t have a choice to come back.”

“he knows. i keep telling him that. it does not change his feelings at all.”

“……”

“hey, dirk. you will have to leave really soon, but can you promise me something really quick?”

“Bullshit. I'm not required to leave soon."

“yes, you are.”

“…Fine.”

“okay. it is too late for you to remember how I am now, but you have to remember that this night happened.”

“…..The hell do you mean by that?”

“please.”

“I’ll try.”

“you have to.”  

And there stood Jake. His face contorted in such a manner to suggest rage, but rather than an immature blind rage, he looked as if he knew exactly what he was angry at. His brows furrowed and his arms hung at his sides, with his back straightened up instead of the slight slouch he had a tendency of taking on. The dark area immediately behind him featured a soldier holding a lance with a spade at the end, only partially viewable as Jake emerged from the path.  

“Dirk we’re leaving. Now.”

Before Dirk had a chance to say a word, John began to laugh.

“what the hell are you being so mean for? are you jealous or something?”

Wordlessly, Jake took Dirk by the arm and pulled him off. He turned his head to John with a glare far colder than any Dirk had ever given him.

“John, we're not, dude-“

“Do not say a further word to him. I will go over things with all due particularity later on but. He is not good company to be around. In fact if you would believe it, after he left, a gentleman of his exact form began to prattle on about an imposter being afoot-”  

John let his eyes transition back to normal. He laughed a little more at Jake, and continued to laugh until they left completely. Once he was alone, he gazed down into his reflection in the fountain. He washed over his formally pinked hand with some of the water, balling it into a fist before beginning to cry. 

 


	12. The Gun Range (Part one)

July 5th, 2501

Dirk leaned back against a wall as Jake stood shooting at a target in a practice area of a local indoor gun range.

Earlier that day, Jake discussed how he could make up for last night’s dreadful dinner. Dirk insisted that the dinner was perfectly fine, but Jake counter asserted that, no, it really wasn’t. Conversation was awkward and the meals were lackluster. He couldn’t possibly let that mater go unresolved, especially because they didn’t go out much. Regardless of Dirk’s inability to comprehend how terrible the night went, Jake came up with a lovely way to put a jump back in their step. Aside from the promise of crispy Belgian waffles on the following day,  what better way to make reparations to someone who has no interest in handling guns than to _bring them to a gun range_?

And so, Jake roped Dirk into a range trip.

The gun range they visited, while considerably more narrow in variety and scope than the centers toward the capital (as usual), acted as a collection of training halls. Each of the halls and the rooms within them had their own unique capabilities and settings to suit a wide range of marksmen. Three preliminary divisions, practice, naturalistic, and expert, divided the halls into a series of smaller rooms, each of which varying in specified content and net rewards. Only the practice halls featured traditional targets, and despite how many are accurately shot, none count for shot points (often abbreviated to SP- shot points may directly be converted to hard cash or traded in for object rewards). The naturalistic halls mostly feature enemies that are docile, with behaviorisms that mirror that of animals. They have no special weapon attachments, and outwardly resemble androids. Some areas may feature aerial enemies, or enemies with exceptional speed. Shooting them in the designated areas will earn a modest amount of SP. The extreme halls offer a range of hosts, some animalistic and some humanoid, all with aggressive behaviors. They will not refrain from severely injuring a participant if allowed in range. Some of them may come with weapons capabilities, which do not discriminate based upon an individual’s accumulative cognition scores. These give the highest SP rewards for accurate shots, which roughly equate to the worth of two meals per every target shot. For perfect shots, five.

Most of the rooms beyond the practice level are holographic, but do not allow the participant to arrange the room for themselves. While the naturalistic rooms have AIs that oversee how the fauna moves, the extreme rooms are controlled by the staff of the center remotely.

Patterns of change also differ. The naturalistic rooms only experience minor changes in environment for the purpose of keeping longer hunts running. The expert hunts experience frequent changes, which may result in the sudden appearance of gaps, moving paths, cages, and ramparts. Patterns of change warp every time a participant enters a room, preventing them from equipping themselves for the hunt ahead.  

It is common for severe injuries to occur in the extreme rooms. That much forms no large deterrent for the Alternian shooting community, especially not for the portion honing their abilities out of necessity.

“Now keep a careful eye on me dirk. You want to ensure that your feet are some ways apart when shooting, and that you are keeping these devils pointed in the correct direction. No fox footing with false shots because someone will end up mad with some brass in their shoulder and there’s always clear ways to identify those sorts of things with the casings.”

Jake stood with protective glasses and earmuffs on, if only so that Dirk would do the same. He hardly ever wore the damned things due to the size of his firearms, but on an extremely rare occasion, he would wear earplugs out on the field. (If anything, his dear sister Jade had a tendency of forgoing the damned things more often, though her preparedness with electronics more than made up for the marginal hearing loss. No wonder she was granted immortality.)

“1…..2……”

Jake shot two separate bullets out of the pistols in his hands, each landing square in the center of the moving targets in front of him.

“Holy shit.”

“I have more where that came from, but it is honestly a notch boring to keep with this level of activity. They are labelled as the friggin rudimentary series of challenge rooms for a reason. I had a time where I would just hole up in here for hours, but I sucked back then and it was exhaustively lame.”

“I know that it’s a few steps back from where you’re usually at, learned your place as a shooter a long fucking time ago. I’m going to set you back up for one last evaluatory round, then I promise to take the reins to spare you from your immense boredom.”  

“Thank you dirk! You make a lovely assistant.”

“I’ll bust out the drag later to assume my rightful place on top of a new car. For the time being, you got a new set of six up. No nailing them down all at once this time.”

Jake took one shot at a target, again hitting it close to center.

“One down! You know, I am so glad that we have taken the day off to spend time with one another dirk. I do realize that your days are more or less always days off aside from shopping from the home, but it is so nice to get the mind cleared now and again.”

He took a shot at the second target. The hole laid farther away from the center than the last.

“Not to mention that this works as a wonderful way to shake off some stress.”

“You know John didn’t mean any harm last night, right?”

“John? Was that the imitation fellow with the piano skills? I cannot imagine how you would come to bringing him back up again considering that he had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. That much was perfectly out of the blue and it didn’t even come in cerulean.”

Jake shot the third target. The bullet hit farther still.

“Dude, you’ve been dodging the subject all morning. I just want to get it talked out, because it seemed kind of unfair how you stormed in like that.”

Jake shot one of the fallen targets with an exaggerated move of the arm. It hit the target dead in the center.

“It isn’t wise to trust a liar dirk, especially not one with his predisposition toward…whatever heinous transformation that was. If you ask me it is a mark of the nefarious underdoings that he has himself up to. He could have very well been carrying a knife underneath that suit top. Maybe three of them.”

Jake shot the fifth target twice, both shots from opposing pistols. He hit close to the center.

“Aside from that it would have been a far better move to have communicated with him before you sat down at the table instead of waiting until he scurried out of the back alley. Do you know all of the things that he could have done to you out there? I am not one to be naïve despite my amenable nature and heaven knows what scandalous things occur in the shade. Scandalous dastardly things that nobody bothers to utter while the sun bothers to keep its pretty little head shining out for all of the daydwellers.”

Jake shot the sixth target repeatedly, all toward the center.

From that point on, he took to speaking between shots.

“And. That’s. Why. We. Had. To. Leave!”

“…That’s some bullshit. I took the time to speak with him for a bit, he seemed every bit as perfectly nice as he was when Dave had him over to the house.”

Jake shot the targets a few more times before setting his pistols down with a loud ‘thunk’ against the metal of the stand.

“…You know what. You are perfectly right dirk. Perfectly perfectly right. I am just being silly about this. I am sure john is a dashing young man without any semblance of evil convolution to him. A dashing dashing talented man. Would you like to give this business a whirl now? I cannot have you dragging against the walls all day after all.”

Jake took one of his pistols in hand, and feigned a smile as he gestured to the remaining pistol set down for Dirk. He then walked over to the back wall to place up a set of targets for Dirk to work with, keeping the pistol he kept to himself in a small holster at his side. 

Dirk practiced his grip on the pistol in his hand, tentatively studying the weight and feel.

He shifted an eye to Jake behind his shades, and sure enough, Jake appeared more or less like his usual self after just a second's passing. Though his happy demeanor shone back through, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something remained off about him. Might have been his tone. Might have been his tendency to bounce on his heels. Might have been his clearly unsettled state. 

One of the many notable outward differentiations from the usual day was that Jake wore a blue tanktop and brown shorts instead of anything comic-related. (Dirk speculated that Jake was attempting to wear a mock-Lara Croft outfit, but he could never be entirely sure.) Dirk himself wore a black tanktop with long black pants, with his normal shades left at home to prevent them from being dirtied.

Dirk held the gun out in front of him, and experimentally cradled his finger against the trigger. While it didn’t carry the finesse of a sword, a certain rush came with the knowledge of being able to knock the lights out of anything he wanted to in a short time frame. With the proper aim, there would be no struggle to getting anything, or anyone, nailed off. Control. So much fucking control.

“Pardon my intrusion here but we haven’t got more than one day for this.”

Jake decided that he would station himself behind Dirk, adjusting his position while he took his time contemplating suppressed megalomania.

“For starters you need to ease up and straighten out. You are far too tense to be posturing like this. After you shoot, you are liable to get hurt from the kickback.”

“Like this?”

“That’s a little better! Here- just follow the guide of my hands a moment.”

“That seems a little high to me.”

“Aiming is going to seem a little wonky in this preliminary period while you still get your bearings together. But with a little practice you will know exactly where to go.”

“I don’t really plan on making this a regular thing, dude.”

“Not many do at first. But then some just get so enthralled with the thrill of it that they keep going again and again.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“Just focus on your first target!”

“Is it okay to release now?”

“Yes I have been waiting for you to do so for the last minute now. Just squeeze down and get it over with.”

Dirk pulled the trigger back. The bullet hit far from the center of the target, but far closer than if he would have attempted to shoot alone.

“One more time now. See if you can get it a little closer in this time.”

Jake repositioned him again, gently moving his shoulders.

“There. Try now.”

Dirk held the gun up, placing it at the exact level that Jake held it at a moment prior. He shot again, which resulted in the bullet hitting considerably closer to the center mark than the last one.

“Good job dirk! You will be a master of the craft in no time, I’m sure!”

Dirk carefully handed Jake his gun back, and took off his protective eyewear.

“Thanks for the support. I'm sure I couldn't have made it through this escapade in steel without you making vaguely suggestive statements closely behind my back. Belaying that shit for just a moment,after the first shot, I really kind of wanted to get my long steel back. I could slice the hell out of these things in two seconds flat.”

Jake stepped back, somehow looking considerably happier than he had been before.

“I do not doubt that in the least. Now come on! There are fiercer demons to be tackled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take it back a notch, Jake.


	13. The Gun Range (Part two)

After Dirk handed over the gun he used, Jake placed both of his guns in his holster. He then gestured for him to follow, leading him out of their target room into the practice hallway.

The practice hallway contained ornate, colorful designs across the floor, with the walls hosting a series of screens playing silent practice videos. Information from any of the screens could be scanned and keyed into any mobile device for review. Downloads were usually accompanied by bonus content of negligible value to anyone above a beginner level. Dirk asked about the screens on the way in, but Jake insisted that it would be more practical to learn from experience, along with what could be garnered from his ‘highly masterful tutelage’. (Dirk scanned one of the screens when Jake wasn’t looking anyway.)

In under twelve steps, they both reached the door at the end of the hall, which Jake gladly opened for Dirk. Dirk thanked him briefly, taking a second glance at the main hall once out.

The main hall is a large, open space which several idle participants can always be seen resting or chatting in. The furniture of the room is black and curved, with comfortable sofas and chairs overwhelmingly lining the walls. A fast black and red ticker, which displays high scores of the day, sits right above a large screen showing a full list of participants present. Both sit in the front most area of the room, right before the entry doors.  

An automated bullet vendor sits on the opposing wall to the ticker. It contains a registry of all Alternian gun types, allowing users to rest their weapon on top of it for an identification scan. After the removal of the weapon, the black screen will change to a list of purchase options (sorted by quantity). Once an option is selected, the machine will facilitate the delivery of the bullets in a small black box.

Because the center’s bullets are not known to be cheap, and only five free bullets are awarded to new users, slow learners to the craft have been known to pay exorbitant sums of money before the hobby becomes remotely profitable.

Six feet down the hall is the entrance to the exchange room, which contains a host of objects to be traded for SP. Contrary to the limitations of other Alternian establishments, rewards within ranges remain constant. The ubiquity of item offering is thought to be because of the mortality rate within the extreme rooms, but that much has never been officially confirmed. Item offerings include fine clothing, fine jewelry, rare gems, exclusive weapons, medical supplies, kitchen equipment, kitchen appliances and a number of other pricey gifts. SP may also be exchanged for money within the exchange room, with a rough conversion rate being one dollar for every hundred SP.

(SP is earned at 20-50 points a perfect shot in a naturalistic room, 100-5000 points a perfect shot in an extreme room depending on enemy type. Imperfect shots will decrease earnings by 30% for every centimeter from the center target. SP cannot be earned from practice rooms.)  

Along the back wall of the main hall, where Jake and Dirk currently stood, laid the entrances for the range divisions. Jake walked toward the door marked “naturalistic”, again opening up the door for Dirk.

Far more complex than the prior halls areas by far, the main hall for the naturalistic rooms was covered from floor to wall in a polished white, with small black designs encroaching in from the top and bottom of the walls. The ceilings featured black animal silhouettes and a series of puck lights, all of which mounted to align perfectly with the entrance doors they laid above. Smaller lights lined the backs of animals to resemble scales, fur, talons, or other minor characteristics. Along the middle of the walls laid large black screens. Most of the screens clearly displayed the type of room an individual would enter into, along with their accumulative SP earnings in that particular room specifically. Televisions mounted at the tops of these screens displayed the progress of the participant. The remainder of the screens, usually placed at the beginning and ends of hallways, displayed revolving advertisements.

Jake brought Dirk down along the hall. He glanced at some of the room titles as he walked down along it- aquatic creatures, forest animals, randomized fauna, island monstrosities, insect infestation, snake pit. The farther down the hall a room was, the more specific its title. As somewhat of a surprise to him, the farther doors were also the source of faint screaming, which hardly drowned out behind the sound of the ads. The earlier rooms featured nothing of the sort.

Regardless of all of the yelling (usually from amateurs), nobody ever emerged out of any of the rooms with more than a bruise or six. Unless they accidentally shot themselves or an animal clawed on a gun the wrong way, that is. 

For the purpose of giving Dirk a good example of the battle experience, Jake entered an open forest room.

“Now you stay out here in the hallway now. Keep a good watch on the screen above.”

"I can promise that my attention will say as rapt as a present. Mostly because my notices are a gift."  

Dirk parked outside of the door, keeping a good eye on the surveillance screen. Sure enough, it turned on, revealing a black room with a singular white light on. Jake excitedly waved up at the camera, which caused Dirk to laugh.

* * *

 Within the room, Jake readied his pistols in hand as the room prepared itself.

The room that Jake stood within, unlike some of the other rooms, only selectively invoked environmental imagery for the purpose of keeping shooters on their toes. These images normally came in the form of imitation animal homes or plant barriers. The areas uncovered came in the form of pitch black panels, with multicolor streams of light flowing unevenly between them. The light always traced the presence of the shooter, rather than tracing the forms of the robotic animals, allowing the shooter enough light to make out enemy forms in dark areas without giving away the location of enemies deciding to hide.  

Because all animal models only take presence as temporary constructs, the material that they are made of will shift to fully contain a bullet, melting it within them before they disappear. On a rare occasion, this process may not entirely complete, leaving a hot patch across the floor. For this reason, it is rare for shooters to step over areas they know to house prior kills. 

The room around Jake became completely dark, and the multicolor streams of light beginning to move. An overhead speaker announced:

“Target count: 2”

The floor of the ground began to shift into a series of small hills, as a singular deer and rabbit rushed out of either side. A slick silver sheen ran across their bodies, with their eyes a light red. A red, painted target could be clearly viewed on the deer, but the target of the rabbit could not. (Target placements varied by animal species and by the individual- all rabbits will have targets on their underside, but the position of that target will vary between models, necessitating some inspection on the part of the participant.) 

As the easiest models, the only annoyance that came along with the first fight was reconciling the animal's speed. 

Jake held out one of his pistols to the side and took care of the deer thoughtlessly. He dashed to the side and kicked the rabbit by anticipating where the model would be heading, shooting it mid-air while the target sat clearly visible. The defeated models turned into a black metal ooze, amalgamating into the floor soundlessly. 

“Target count: 5”

Five wolf models emerged as the floor leveled out. Two of them were noticeably bigger than the other three, but moved at a faster pace. Regardless, they held far greater strength.

A trench appeared across the floor, along with three wide pillars, slowing rising up to the ceiling to render the areas unusable. One of the pillars emerged directly underneath Jake, forcing him to jump across to a spot of land where two dogs were present. One immediately leapt for him, the other perched in wait. Jake sidestepped to evade the first, shooting it while the target on its back was able to be hit. The other dog growled and barked at him, leaping forward toward his leg. Jake kicked forward to get the dog on its side, jumping across the ravine after another of the dogs took up that area of the podium. He took a quick shot at the dog on the floor before rolling into the ravine, laying down and shooting up at a few of the dogs that tried to enter in suit.

Remaining laid one singular big dog running right toward him, which Jake shot straight through the opened mouth.

All of the models sunk down into the ground in a flood of ooze as the prior ones had, clearing the floor before the next announcement.

“Target count: 7”   

A flock of illusions flooded the top of the room, masking the presence of three bird models recently included in the fray. On the floor, two mechanical snakes, one bear, and one hound emerged along with them.

Among other models, snake models have been a menace in the range, regardless of the shooter’s relative level of expertise. The targets always laid around the underside of the snakes, so that when they wrapped around a victim, gaining points from them would be incredibly hard. Paired with their difficulty to remove once in their grip, many users have learned to deal with the reduction in mobility through the round and suffer the point loss later, rather than try to shoot immediately and either risk gaining nothing, or injuring themselves.

Without a second wasted, Jake ran behind one of the pillars to act as a makeshift vantage point. The pillar predictably combusted into rubble, sinking back into the floors as the fallen prey had.  All the while, one of the snakes hooked itself around the bottom of his leg, hissing and rattling its tail.

The scenery shifted further into a series of walls resembling a maze, lowering the predictability of oncoming targets.

One of the birds swooped down to attempt to knock one of Jake’s pistols out of his hands. He used the gun it aimed for as a blunt force weapon, knocking the bird to the ground before shooting it through the target wing. Another followed in suit immediately after. It took the pistol into its mouth and attempted to fly off with it. Jake shot it out of the air with similar haste, though the pistol landed on the otherside of the wall.  

He attempted to run over to jump and scale the wall to retrieve the weapon, but the snake attached to him changed its hold to encompass both of his legs, resulting in a clumsy smack against it.

On the floor, he turned to see the bear coming, which he shot three times through the head without a moment’s hesitation. He then crawled along the floor as the snake attempted to climb higher on him still, aiming to wrap up his arms. He grabbed it by the throat and pulled it only high enough to get a clear shot of the target, which he shot through twice.

The snake was then tossed to the side as he scrambled to get up, rushing to the other side of the wall to see the solitary dog with the gun in its mouth. Without a moment’s notice, a bark from the dog “accidentally” caused the gun to fall to the floor in such a way that the trigger went off.

Jake yelled and scrambled to the side, shooting the dog four times before it could encroach forward and do anything else. While the dog did fall, the gun in Jake’s hand ran out of bullets.

No matter.

He picked his missing gun back up, shooting down the final swooping bird and oncoming snake before the simulation collapsed. All of the bodies of the creatures again turned to ooze.

“Tier one ended. Shot points: 630. Continue?”

“Cancel simulation.”

The walls of the room leveled out as the light streams ceased to move, and quickly faded to black. A singular white light at the top of the room turned on, allowing clear view of the door. Jake picked up his guns and left the room.

He looked triumphant as he placed them both back in his holster.

“I am going to have to skedaddle right off to get some fresh ammo, but isn’t the room a hoot? You can try yourself in a few minutes here.”

And with that, Jake jovially ran off back into the main hall.

(Though not without a quiet wheeze) 

 

 


	14. The Gun Range (Final- Part Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back in business. Hopefully, the longer chapter here is able to make up a little for one of many one day pauses.
> 
> **Huge TW: for gore here.**

While Jake wandered off to tend to his shortage of ammunition, Dirk remained by the door to the room, contemplating the details of the match. The first thing that a participant would need to experientially learn is how the animals shifted between matches. From the looks of it, none of the AIs could be garnered as being entirely unpredictable. Snakes served to halt motion, birds worked to separate guns, dogs and bears stood as physically imposing obstacles, deers and rabbits worked to test reaction timing. Working on the presumption that room automation wouldn’t deviate too far unless a shooter was performing “too well”, kills would need to be sequentially ordered to provide the least amount of drag before encountering physically substantial targets.

The second thing that a participant would need to pay attention to was how the room layout fluctuated in accordance with the target types released. Targets heavy on speed or small in form would likely have room layouts that contributed to further concealing their presence, rendering precise shots a hardship to attain. Targets with an intent to limit player movement would have environments that focused on distraction, or provided abnormal amounts of stimulus, which made the encroachment of the bots easier. Physically jarring targets might come along with environmental features which act to constrain floor space, forcing shooters into close combat.

On a more specific note, Dirk thought over Jake’s movements on the field. While some of his movements had the grace of a glass angel falling to the floor in the aftermath of the christening of ‘that one relative’ to the immeasurably important task of placing up all of the decorations of minimal worth, most of them sung of how long Jake practiced within the range. Kicking the rabbit forward instead of attempting to grab it or shoot around it, as well as the decision to shoot the dogs from above instead of lingering around on even level with them, both constituted actions that would not be taken by someone completely unfamiliar with the room conditions. How many points had Jake accrued thus far in total? Fuck knows, but no way in hell could it be anything minor.

Once Jake stepped back into the hallway, he appeared more than content with the idea of handing over control to Dirk.

“I know that entering the ring might come across as a less than thrilling endeavor, but if you can manage to shoot down at least one of the targets while inside one of the rooms, I will buy you something neat from the SP exchange. I should note that *neat* does not encroach into the territory of extravagance but uh. The rarity of the item selection may prove to make up for your ability to hold the higher turn of financial leverage outside of this place.”    

Dirk laughed.

“Thanks for your earnest gesture. In light of your excitement, regardless of the likely net gain, I’ll take you up on trying a round. Don’t be too pissed when I gank some sweet loot off your points later on.”

Jake handed both of his pistols over, grinning.

“I will only be cross if you neglect to share. Do be careful not to harm yourself now.”

Dirk nodded. He entered the same room as Jake had, taking his place at the center of the room.

The process began in the exact same manner as the prior one- the lights faded to black, multicolored streams of light emerged against the floor, all before a voice called out:

“Target count: 2”

Within a matter of seconds, Dirk perfectly took care of both targets with the guns, and verbally canceled the simulation to leave the room.

Jake stood confused.

“And with that, I’m going to buy a sword.” 

“What. Dirk! The intention was to have you play through a round and get your bearings a bit, not to trounce the easiest stage and walk right on by.”

“That's lovely, Jake. I’m still going to buy a sword.”

“Holy hell you absolute friggin douche.”

“Love you too, man.”

Dirk walked into the main hall, gesturing to the exchange room. As reluctant as Jake was to step forward, he continued without further complaint.

After a short trip into the room, Jake input his information into one of many purchase screens, stepping aside to allow Dirk to look through the item gallery. As items were previewed, they showed up as a hologram directly in front of the screen, on a round silver plate. Behind it laid an incredibly strong, clear display containing grand, colorful example items. The higher along the wall one would look, the more splendid the treasures would become. The display lights grew brighter in suit, aiming to tantalize the onlookers into poor judgment.

Regardless of this, Dirk kept a close eye on Jake’s points. For as high as his total laid, he only held enough to buy a handful of meals outside of taking care of what rent he did. If he wanted anything other than that? He got the idea that archeology paid reasonably enough for like- an extra chair per month. Maybe.

As reluctant as he was to participate further in the range with guns.....chancing upon a novel idea, Dirk previewed and purchased one of the cheapest sturdy swords offered. The sword had ornate, red engravings down along the hilt. The blade was shorter than most, and appeared a shade lighter than the average gray. At a distance, the light shone across it at a bright white, adding a beautiful romantic quality to its appearance. To make up for how close one would need to get to land a hit, the thickness of the blade would easily be able to make a sizable gash in most enemies, and the tip did not seem liable to wear down with any degree of ease. The machine delivered a black box to the counter, wrapped with a small white ribbon.

Further to Jake’s surprise, rather than keeping the sword and gesturing for them to leave for the day, Dirk began to walk toward one of the hallways. And to his panic, that hallway happened to be the one for the extreme rooms.

“Dirk. Dirk get back here. I have a faint idea of what you are attempting to do and it is absolutely not possible on the basis of target speed and-“

“As far as I could tell, there was no explicit rule limiting point earnings to those who used a gun. And considering I’m no longer of flesh, I would imagine that I have a far higher tolerance for physical attacks than someone like you. Just relax. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Jake ran after him. Once he caught up, he held him by the arm, attempting to pull him back. Knowing Dirk’s stubbornness, the only thing to get him to change course would have to be a 30 page philosophical argument on the moral stance of the move, or a physical inability to move forward. Regardless of this, Dirk continued walk into the corridor, earning a few curious looks from some of the participants sitting in the main hall.

* * *

 Walking into the extreme hallway revealed black walls and floors, accented with small red engravings. A red light drifted down along some, mirroring leaking blood. Creatures of indiscernible form were carved into the ceiling, occasionally exhibiting protrusions mirroring flagellum, long claws, or pulsing areas of flesh. Fake hands, legs and other appendages could be seen mounted up against the sides of the door entrances.

The appendages at the sides of the doors were programmed to move unnervingly if a room was occupied, mirroring how a participant was doing. If the progress went well, the appendages would appear to change from their pale, faded tone into lifelike coloration, occasionally gaining a flower dropped from the mouths of one of the creatures mounted on the ceiling. If progress went poorly, however, then the appendages would jolt about. They would lose their color, drowning into a pale white. Along their length, they would begin to display scars, bruises and gashes. Some would claw into the wall, some kicked into it, some snapped in half as the artificial skin slowly teared apart, the skin audibly snapping in the process. In the worst-case scenario, if someone died while present in the room, the door mounts would replay a hushed version of the final moments of audio from the fight. Small tendrils would come up along the appendages, dragging them down to be replaced with new ones.

Scoreboards took the same place as they had in the naturalistic hall. Along with displaying point totals, the extreme boards also displayed mortality rates. Screens to view battle progression could still be seen just above the boards.

Dirk walked down along the hall, reading over the titles as he walked down along it. _The Thousands of Shrieks of Days Prior, A Test in Poison Absorption, The Acidic Swamp of Dunsinane, Memories of the Dead, A Test in Practical Replication_ ; every single of the titles came along with a brief description of the room mounted at the side of the door, along with a set of likely injuries. The descriptions expanded as they went along, some necessitating pages upon pages to adequately relay the complexity of the horrors within. 

He stopped at one of the few active battle screens in the hall, watching the progress of the participant as Jake continued to nag.

The shooter inside the room was dragged by the feet into a large creature composed of eyes and sand, which opened circularly to reveal rows upon rows of blade like teeth. With shaky hands, they took a shot up into the mouth of the creature, resulting in a horrendous shriek from the target. Some of the eyes began to turn and expel blood- not because it had been hurt, but because it engaged in the process of shedding its pelt, and aimed to blind the shooter. The exterior lining began to break apart row by row to allow the core of the beast to be seen- hundreds of small breaking tethers of red matter, allowing the emergence of a humanoid creature without skin, composed purely of overlaying muscle mass. The blood it expelled began to thicken and resemble a syrupy mass, hardening to keep the gunman in place. They had just enough mind to cover their mouth before the expulsion of the material, allowing them to cancel the simulation just before the creature had the time to pry apart a single rope of red.

While Dirk could only imagine what would have come next, a screen in the place of an advertisement screen began to explain the beast.

> _Skin eater; encases in a large shell in the hopes of ripping off the skin of its prey piece by piece, collecting the shreds in its inner pit, which functions as its stomach. The remaining flesh is then deposited along the inner walls of the creature to expand it. Should the outer wall be destroyed by hitting one of five targets within its sets of teeth, the creature will expel its own blood to cure into a viscous mass. The sap is then laid across the flesh of the victim, which pulls off any skin underneath it if torn off by the beast, to then be consumed along with the blood substance to aid in recovering energy for repair._

As the room normalized, the shooter in that room seemed perfectly contented with laying down across the floor for a while, visibly shaking. 

While the footage significantly diminished Dirk’s inclination to enter a room aimlessly, he stopped at the foot of one reading “The Land of the Faceless.” Jake yelled a line of reasons why entering would be foolhardy, but Dirk paid him no mind as he continued to read the explanation down.

> _A series of targets with malleable forms, contained in a black pit. Lighting is minimal. Targets are volatile. Number of targets never exceeds nine; lowest count: one. Likely injuries, 99; possible injury set includes....._

Removing his arm from his, Dirk stepped into the room while Jake could only helplessly worry outside the door.

* * *

 Much like the naturalistic rooms, the environment only began to change once the shooter stood ready in the room. Dirk positioned himself with his sword high in hand, waiting for the lights to fade to black.

Starkly different to the naturalistic rooms, the environment took the form of a constantly moving flow of black liquid, lining all of the walls perfectly. Shifting a foot revealed that the liquid did not interfere with movement, but it did provide a slight pressure against his feet, as any rushing water would. 

“Target count: 2”

The water curved up in two areas, soon fading down to nothingness.

Slowly, out of the middle of the floor, streams of the black ooze twisted around one another to construct a spindly, humanoid beast with long black claws, the head replaced with the ends of the streams. The base remained conjoined with the ooze, causing it to somewhat resemble a flower.

Dirk walked forward carefully, keeping his sword poised for attack.

The stems at the top began to bend down, melting back into the floor in streams. More stems emerged out of the top and shot to the sides of the room. From those, lines of the fluid dripped drown and hatched, all but covering the middle of the field completely. The lines began to alter in such away to resemble a large grin, wavering slightly to emulate breathing. The claws postured themselves like teeth.   

On Dirk's side of the field only, the black on the ceiling began to rain down. He avoided the drops at first, attempting to conceive where the target on the first visible creature was hidden. As the drops continued, they began to halt mid-air, growing wings and taking flight. A light buzzing came along with the movement of their wings, increasing in volume as they began to fly across him. Once they started hitting, they warped to form small needles across their undersides, leaving burns in every area they touched. Dirk placed a hand across his upper arm over a newly reddened patch of skin, soon moving to swipe his sword across the air in the hopes of cutting some down. Sure enough, they flattened back down into liquid once hit. Some merged back with the floor. Some of it stayed across the blade.

The black puddle across the steel slowly formed a hand, crawling up the blade in the hopes of reaching Dirk’s neck to strangle him. He pinched the hand at the top and tossed it across the floor, noticing a small glimmer of red across its palm. He quickly dashed through the continuing onslaught of flying drops, now loud enough to resemble a swarm of bees. He felt the pain across his arms grow greater and greater before he stepped down on the hand on the floor. It screamed, attempting to shift itself over back on its side. 

Stabbing the hand down at the palm caused a grotesque, jolted crack, fading into the sound of a girl crying.

The rain stopped.

All of the drops fell back into the ground, each beginning to mirror the cry of the hand. They changed in temperature, becoming scalding to the touch. Futilely, Dirk swiped above his head with his sword in the aims of redirecting some of the fluid, kicking the liquid that formed against it into the ground after the droplets ceased.

The mouth on the wall of ooze shifted into a frown, similarly emitting a high whine. The wall began to separate at the center, and the streams that constructed it divided to form two large hands. What remained in the middle formed a headless child, who walked forward to shake at Dirk’s leg.

“I want it. I want it. Į w͟an҉t̴ it.҉ ͟I ҉want it.̛”

It began to attempt to climb up him, which merited him using the sword to pierce down through it's center. The severed halves retained their form. Frowns began to form on their interior, quickly changing into scowls. The mouths warped to vomit black streams down, which Dirk had good enough mind to not let touch the sword.

Two of the streams formed ropes which moved up to touch against his face, seemingly ginger about their hold. Dirk impulsively yanked one of the streams away. The creature began to yell again, at higher a pitch than it ever had before.

“ **I̵ ̀w̛an͜t͘ it. ̢I ̶wa͠ǹt it. ̡Ì̵̵͟͝ ̨͘͟͏̢ẃ̛͢ą͘͟n̴̸t͢͟͞ ҉̵͏̢i͡͠t̡҉҉͟͜.̸̡ ̷̡I̧ ̷̢̕w̷̢ą̵̀͝n̡͢͟t̵̀͜͠ ̶̷̴i͘t̵̡̢͢͞.̢͘͜”**

The remaining stream pierced into the side of his face, attempting to burrow down. At the realization of what the creature was attempting to do, he sliced the tether off, yanking out what remained with a grunt. He sliced at the creature madly, causing it to separate, yet retain its form every time. It soon resembled a mangled mass of a corpse, with excess liquid leaking down out of its core, forming more ropes, larger than the first. 

In a fit of desperation, he reached down into the center of the beast before him. To his surprise, he felt something firm through the ooze. He violently pulled it up, revealing a beating, black heart with a red target across the center.

He stabbed down on it with his sword, causing the beast to pulse and writhe quickly, the ends of its body beginning to resemble spider legs.  It contracted into the core, melting down into the ground once more. The hands at the side of the room faded to nothing as two large doors emerged in their place. The area behind it raised to resemble a stage.

“Target count: one”  

Out of the center rose a woman without a face, again formed by the liquid of the chamber. Rather than attack immediately, she simply began to play with her hair, wrapping it around herself. The strands leaked down to reconfigure the being’s form, eventually taking Jake’s shape. Despite this, he still lacked a face.

The clone walked forward. Dirk immediately went to grab toward the clone’s heart, which only resulted in his arm phasing through it. He pulled back with equal haste, stepping back to raise his sword high above him. The clone laughed and walked around the room. It shifted the ooze around to begin emulating Dirk’s room in Jake’s house. Dirk scanned the area for any red, any red at all, but he couldn’t spot any.  

Once the clone reached the back wall, he meticulously re-created the infinite space area. It idly played with the buttons, resulting in a flood of black ooze to spring out of it. The liquid began to fill the room as the clone turned to him, though his demeanor still did not seem malicious.

Regardless of what the clone intended to do, letting the water get over his head would render spoken word useless, nullifying any opportunity to shut off the simulation.

Dirk frantically ran across the sides of the room, stabbing through anything he could in the hopes of finding the target. Every gash ushered in a new stream, filling up the room more quickly. He swam toward the infinite space area to attempt to slash through it, causing the clone to hold his hand. After he had a firm grasp on Dirk, the clone shook his head, pulling him down into the water fully. Dirk held his breath, struggling against the clone as it attempted to soothe him.

The clone’s free hand fell against the side of Dirk’s face, feeling against it with his fingers.

Outside the room, Jake stood in a mixture of shock and anger. His hands were clenched into tight fists, increasing the pressure of their grip in accordance with how much Dirk struggled. He only turned away from the screen to glance down at the hand beside the door of the room. It began to pale, but instead of gaining bruises, it gained black lipstick stains resembling kiss marks. 

Dirk released his sword in a last ditch effort to kill off the clone. He stuck his hands into his head, pulling out a skull with a red target mark on it. He kicked against the clone's legs as he reached up for his sword, with the clone pulling him back down in the aims of keeping him there. Once he got a hold of it, he stabbed straight through the skull, trying to fight against falling unconscious as the water began to drain.

The clone shifted to mirror Dave’s image, falling to its knees. It looked up at him as it fell over on the ground, again merging with the floor.

Dirk’s vision blurred as he heard the third call from the ceiling.

“Target count: 7”

The room began to form a valley of Dirk clones, all of which faceless. Each featured some kind of distortion, whether it was an enlargement of an arm, the combination of the legs into a tail, or something more peculiar like the severance of his head.

Rather than give up the match, Dirk came to stand, looking over each of the clones carefully. Stepping forward caused them all to move at once. Staying still resulted in nothing.

He carefully moved to the side, noticing a sliver of red protruding from the closest clone’s shirt, the only abnormality present on him being a snake-like tail. He quickly stabbed into the black shirt, causing the clone to scream. He leaked down into the floor as the others grew larger.

He carefully shifted to the next one, staying well out of range of the grip of one with a huge arm. The one he approached only had the frame of the upper body, with the center filled with a small strand containing a noose. He kept his sword fixated at the being’s neck as he pulled the noose down, resulting in the next target dropping down from the middle of the clone’s neck. The clone grabbed at his free hand as Dirk sliced at the target, causing it to leak down into the floor like the first. The others grew quicker.

Rather than walk over to the next one immediately, Dirk shifted closer to the wall, causing the five remaining targets to step forward three paces quicker than they had before.

Realizing that the situation was strictly engendered to favor multiple weapons/shots, he began to hatch a plan.

He banked to the right swiftly, just enough to cause two clones to overlap positions. Upon noticing red in both upper portions, he tossed his sword through the targets, causing them to leak into the floor. Three remain. The remainder gained speed and power. He slid down across the floor to evade the attacks of two, falling into the grip of the one with the abnormally large arm. It gripped down on Dirk’s leg tightly as he shifted to grab his blade. Dirk showed no hesitation toward stabbing it in the arm, causing it to dissolve.

Two remain. They both gain speed and power. One has a dislocated jaw, hanging down to his chest. One held its head in his hands.

Running on the assumption that the jawed one may prove to be more annoying to fight individually, Dirk stabbed down into his neck first, causing it to sink into the floor.

One remains. Speed up, power up, free movement regained. The final clone gripped at his removed head and stretched it out like a sword, causing a number of other blades to emerge out of the walls in a maze like arrangement. It lifted its sword to trigger the shift of the walls inward. Dirk dashed forward to take care of it before it could get a swipe in, resulting in him being thrown back against the opposing wall, narrowly missing a jutting blade. The blades curved to keep him in place while the clone went in for a shot, which Dirk narrowly dodged with a turn of the head.

The clone quickly moved to try again, landing a slice straight through Dirk’s torso. While the pain felt every bit as bad as it would have before the transition, Dirk’s mainframe slowly began to reconstruct as he was stabbed in another area.

He tolerated three more slices before the clone stabbed dangerously close to his core, resulting in him calling out:

“Cancel simulation.”

The clone dropped his sword, laughing as it slowly melted back down into the floor.

The walls began to dry and harden as a singular white light turned on yet again. As the door began to open, Jake rushed in to help him, yelling incoherently as Dirk smirked up at him.

“Tier one preemptively ended. Shot points: 9000. Restart?”

As Jake escorted him out of the room quickly to take him home.

The hand at the base of the door dripped blood through a series of cuts made through the kiss marks. It formed a puddle through which a rose grew.

The explanatory screen idly ran through the monster types, as the scoreboard displayed Dirk's final SP.

> “ _Faceless one, aims to rip the living face off of whoever encounters it to wear for itself. It usually comes in pairs to facilitate distraction, as well as compensate for its sporadic emotional processing. Depending on model type, Faceless may have a perfectly complex emotional spectrum, ranging from love to hatred. Despite this, it is nearly impossible to convince a faceless model out of harming a participant. Faceless two, takes on the form of the participants greatest….”_       


	15. Dancing and Damning (Part one)

July 6th, 2501

“I know that its going to be impossibly fucking hard to skate past that one plushenko but [we’re turning tune to this gig](https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=16&v=YeVGKwhsqn0)”

Within a local nightclub, Dave stood behind a large, opulent DJ booth. The steel head of the booth stretched atop a black mainframe, accented at the back by an image of a calm red dragon. The eyes of the dragon would occasionally close, and the tail would move along with its mood (usually changing to match the music playing). The scales of the dragon jutted out of the back, lending a realistic feel to the texture if touched. On top of the booth, rotating screens took the place of disks, displaying the operator’s choice of moving imagery. Presently, this imagery was set to a moving pool of water, which swayed and settled in accordance with how the hands of the operator drifted across them. While active, small splotches of color would show up underneath the user’s fingertips, along with a small blurb explaining the command in progress. A list of previously used commands hung at the upper right, allowing the user to quickly chain them if needed. 

Contrary to a traditional model, the screen space of the disks was used for the alteration of the environment of the club, rather than the adjustment of the sound of the music. The music itself was controllable by a sizable panel to the right of the other screens, functioning as a manipulatable playlist. A user could port sound effects into the list to weave them into extant songs in any number of ways, allowing for the fluid alteration of the tunes during the user's work shift.  For all of its additional complexity, the act of using the booth looked the same as the process of using an antiquated model.

“taking a break from the noise inundating this place with more beats than mcdonald can shove down his inflamed larynx,

just the other day someone had the nerve to come up in here and scrutinize the relative configuration of the ninth cloud to float across the ceiling

considering that my personal ability to slap up weather elements in aesthetically pleasing arrangements is pretty much on par with the decorum abilities of martha stewart in a shlocky paper lantern fair

I think its fair to discount that vituperation as the work of a maxed fucking hater

see that guy at the back gets me here

bless your fucking household- stay up”

Forming the first controllable environmental component: the ceiling of the club displayed a phantasmagoric array of fantasy skies. Some of the many options included: a beautiful, white cloudscape against a clear blue sky, a bustling, modern city against a black, starry sky, a slowly shifting sunset against an orange/red gradient sky, a steampunk industrial area with gondolas and aircrafts shifting in the sky, and a variegated candyland with balloons shifting up against a pink sky. Adding new elements into the projection could be done with the booth, as well as redirecting the path of individual elements. Altered environments could be saved for later use.

Forming the second controllable environmental component: the movements of the dancers in the middle of the floor could be remotely programmed. Large mechanisms underneath the floor anchored and shifted a series of thin black rods, which tethered to the appendages of the designated dance cast for a night. These rods would then shift and bend to "sculpt" how the host moved, often resulting in flawless performances, which retained the physical strain of doing them naturalistically. Employees of the club usually took up these positions, though there are a series of noted exceptions where customers of the joint request to take part early.

Lastly, forming the third controllable environmental component: a large motor in the core of the mechanism underneath the floor allowed the circular floor to rotate, which allowed the hosts of the establishment to limit or facilitate exterior room access. A series of twelve independent hallways laid outside of the main clubroom, including shops, restaurants, VIP rooms, and gambling halls. Only six of the hallways could be entered from the main club at one time, though they all conjoined into a larger lobby space to prevent any unfortunate visitor trappings.

Regardless of whether they entered through the main room or not, It came as no secret to any entrant that entering into a specific three of the twelve, the gambling row, the VIP block, and the infamous “hedonist’s haven”, would require heavy amounts of non-verbal persuasion, something that regulars became professionals in.  

The sides of the club filled themselves with twelve far-spaced canopy booths. Large black pillars stood at their sides. Taking presence at the center of the tables, optional holographic screens could be turned on VIA thought command. They allowed visitors of the club to play silent games, which required clicking certain areas of the screen in time with the current tune. Online tournaments involving these games offered monetary rewards, but because tournaments stretched across the city without relegating themselves to any particular club, winning was rare. However frequent screen use was, it was far more frequently to find couples not-so-secretly swapping tongue against the black cushions.  

“aight guys I need you to save the next nodes of particularity smack dab ass backward into your mental folders

with varying levels of literal on that depending on whether or not you’ve taken a flesh swap recently

i got a few lines that have been reverberating in my mind for days now

shits packing more weight than the climax of babadook

if I don’t drop them like incendiaries splayed across a beforan cookoff then someones floor is going to be fucking ruined”  

To finally come to the star of this segment, Dave’s presence wasn’t notable for participation within the club, but rather, his inevitable absence. He glided across the control screens, meticulously changing the sky above to a calm, blue one. He stretched and pulled at the clouds, shifting one to mirror a flying bird. Soon enough, an entire flock of clouds could be seen across the screen, flying around one another seamlessly. He wiped a hand across it to clear the image, turning the sky orange. A flood of ravens entered view, which revealed a single floating heart balloon once cleared. Two buildings rose to the side of it.

He began to meander in thought, causing his visuals to become more curious. He let the balloon drift away, expanding it to comprise the entire sky. He then released it and allowed the sky to fade to night. He placed up several stars onto the screen, arranging them into a single figure. The figure appeared to walk aimlessly as the other stars drifted to form a passing road. Soon, several other figures emerged. They appeared to talk with one another, shifting other stars to form the outline of a home. They sat contented for a while until one more curious body of stars was added. With the appearance of this singular being, one by one, the other stars faded to black. 

The sky became static as Dave received a silent notification on the screen besides his mock disks.

“EB: dave, i need to talk to you about something.”

He automated the sky’s progression, sending a small text to one of his present coworkers to fill in for him.

“-rain check on that persistent nagging need to get generous with verbosity

my chicken shift just got blocked by a matter of inexplicable importance”

At the door leading into the lobby, John stood waiting. Both of his eyes remained a hollow white. A series of black veins ran down from his right eye, which faded to gray against his paled skin. He reverted to normalcy as Dave approached the exit.

As usual, they immediately walked outside to speak in private.  

* * *

Elsewhere on July 6th, 2501

Dirk propped himself up backwards on a chair, suggestively hip rolling while Jake attempted to sprawl across his kitchen counter sideways.

Not fifteen minutes before, Dirk took to cleaning the apartment, using it as a method of distracting himself from the unspeakable, high definition horrors now present in his mind for conceivably the rest of forever. What started as a simple endeavor to clean up a portion of the living room windows quickly graduated into a quest to dust off every shelf possible, earning a curious look from Jake. 

“…I could have sworn you were made aware of the automated cleaning system a while ago. Did you momentarily let that one slip through your mind?”

“Absolutely not, as nothing ever does. I just kind of felt like shaking off some of the tension from yesterday. As needless as the task is, it’s just mundane enough to let my thoughts lull into facetiously random patterns again.”

“Well isn’t that curious. To be perfectly frank I did not even learn that cleaning tasks could be performed manually until I straight up and left the home. It was not all that far off from when you came right on in. I should think that little detail right there substantiates the *weakness* attribute of the entire thought.”

“Hahaha. Holy shit. That’s fucking sad, dude. Which point totals were you raised with?”

“Lets see. My grandmother had something close to a 94. My grandfather a 92. As previously mentioned jade also got slipped the high end of the spectrum leaving me a puzzling aberration in the bunch.”

“Aside from dodging hell, that much had to be tough.”

“Not in the slightest! Everyone in the family was kind to the heavens about it. When the time came to leave the nest, I just couldn’t stand to be cooped up with the others anymore, so I scurried right on outta there.”

“Is it because your adventurer bravado was kicking up a dire lust for exploration? Did you have to quench your vehement thirst for uncharted territory?”

“Now I do not know what you are meaning to get at but I do know that you are trying to make it sound sexual. It is not.”

“That’s a disappointment. What a wonder it would be to stand in relative proximity to your sexual awakening-”

Dirk started laughing.

“I can’t fucking finish that shit. Just let me clean in peace, dude.”

“I am too far into this conversation to let the matter drop that easily. I want to toss in a hand to help! It looks like a heck of a lot of fun.”

“It is the most boring shit you will ever encounter but it is good for Ghibli social cred. The towels in your drawers are perfectly viable for the task- start cleaning the counters, and tell me when you run out of patience.”

Jake went into the kitchen area, taking his place by one of the towel drawers. He began to fish through it, inevitably taking a small red cloth in hand. It wasn’t long before he jovially began to wash across the counters, so focused on his work that he began to lose track of time. The need to passively participate in the task grew into a need to ensure that the counter was free of any and all markings. He worked at every bit of grease across the counters, looking up to see Dirk with his wireless earbuds in.

Dirk's expression appeared serene as he idly worked to clean off the television. For once, a pleasant calm. Jake only stared for a moment, giving way to word when he thought it okay to interrupt.

“Dirk.”

He turned to remove one, looking over at Jake.

“Yeah?”

“What are you currently listening to?”

“[At the current moment, I'm listening to a Kikou cover.](https://youtu.be/LbJ9YmZAyRM)” [  
](https://youtu.be/LbJ9YmZAyRM)

“Oh. I haven't heard of the source there- but that is nice.”

“Did you have a particular reason for asking?”

“For whatever reason you came across as very contented just now. That much is a rarity. Belaying that note I think I am going to go fetch my own music player.”

Jake ran off to grab and put on his own wireless headphones. Unsurprisingly, his had two white skulls in the center.

What happened next could only be predicted by the likes of the clouds.

In the midst of[ his own jam,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAFP0IoMfsA) Jake got a bit too carried away. He began to sway with exaggerated movements of the hand, sinking down onto the floor before leaning down to clean across the floor. 

Dirk could only see the beginnings of the move, but could take a few guesses at the following choreography.

“Dude. The fuck.”

“I am dreadfully sorry. I absolutely cannot hear you over how great this song is.”

“If you’re going to be that way, we may as well construct a game out of this.”

“Really now? Call me intrigued.”

“Great. Get off the fucking floor.”

Jake stood back up, grinning brightly, intent on hearing the challenge.

“Considering we both have music on anyway- we may as well just blast some and host a dance battle in this bitch. Winner gets to say they wasted their time in a home dance battle.”

“You are so on.”

Dirk exchanged his cloth for a broom. He commanded on the speaker, turning the song to [Miniskirt by AOA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6f-LLM1H6U).

It wasn’t long before they both lapsed into unpracticed hip gyrations and false unzipping moves, fluctuating between attempting to look serious and covering their mouths to hide laughter. Moves would be made and volleyed with decreasing grace as time went on- Dirk attempted to slide down the broom and twirl on it, resulting in Jake attempting to pelvic thrust up from the floor, causing Dirk to attempt to deepthroat his broom handle, causing Jake to yell about how that was illegal, causing Dirk to resort to the more family-friendly move of perching his hands back on a chair while rotating his hips in the air. Jake attempted to lay across the counter, which failed, resulting in the game breaking move. Jake propped one of his legs up on a drawer beneath the counter and twerked above it. He held himself steady for about a minute before his leg slipped, causing him to curse before reaching for the counter to prevent him from falling. Dirk was in the middle of crawling across the floor when Jake fell, which caused him to fall to his side in hysterical laugher.

“I'm going to bust my artificial fucking lungs. That's it. End game.”

“In fairness I was going strong until that slip of the toe! Regardless I think it wise to go shower now. I am also taking the victory for this match.”

“You do that man.”

Dirk got off the fucking floor, walking back over to lay across the couch. He took to writing out a new mental rap, pausing at five-minute intervals to halt himself from laughing again. 

As the rhymes stacked with increasing fluidity, time passed effortlessly. All the while, Jake could be heard singing to himself through the wall. While the words were muffled, the tune sounded upbeat, and from what was discernable, his singing voice was lovely.

Regrettably, while Jake remembered how to carry the tune on his mind, he didn't remember to take a new set of clothing into the bathroom with him. Or so he would assert if questioned later on. He took a towel and wrapped it around his waist, walking over to his own room with drenched hair.

Dirk kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling.

“You didn’t take a fucking change of clothes into the bathroom, did you.”

Jake placed a hand on his hips, exhaling. 

“The dance match was distracting alright!! Now hush up and let me burrow through my own dresser in peace.”

He closed the door after himself once within the room. Dirk shook his head.

Soon, the television provided an ample distraction.

It turned on, ushering in a governmental update. While text only displayed on the screen, Scratch's voice played along with it.

  May mercy come to those that evade the apparent. May mercy still come.

“With full heart and contented mind, I am proud to announce that the implementation of Alternia's self-sustainment may begin. Attributed to the mail that is frequently sent into my cute postbox, I know that most of you are ruminating in questions about the nature of the changes to come. Don't worry. I have a series of convenient explanations that will assuage your unease.  
  
To begin, the preliminary samples have been distributed to ten separate test groups consisting of five persons each, all of which have proved to show results exceeding expectation. None of them have shown any proof of an ailment or malady, and all have been able to live for three week spans or longer on just one serving.   

Only the most trusted doctors of our ranks, the same whose careful hands have given birth to the immortality of our brightest, have been entrusted with the administration and surveillance of those kind enough to participate in the project. Documentation has also been taken care of by them, which was then reviewed by a trusted panel of six pivotal scientists separate from those in charge of working out the food's composition. 

The taste of the product has proven to equate to ambrosia, though it features no addictive properties in the least. One transitioning to sustaining themselves off of it would not experience any discomfort, nor would they be forced into purchasing the product. 

On the subject of money, the food has proven to be more monetarily efficient than ever to generate. The labs are working toward opening up several mass generation factories, which will be accepting more than a few employees soon.  

The distribution of this good is expected to hit regularity by next year. I do wish I could expedite the process further, but the generation of these marvels is currently being handled by a handful of kind souls. Lets not be rude to them now. We can all have our due share in time. 

For the time being, I would encourage everyone to strive toward their best, and prepare themselves for the heightened effulgence to come across our shining example of a land"  

  May mercy come to those that evade the apparent. May mercy still come.

 

Jake came out of the room in his pajamas, and rested over top the back of the couch.

"I only caught wind of bits and pieces from the room over. I have the creeping suspicion that this next work of law will grow into one of the largest since- well. The never die thing. I could be wrong however."

"No, I'm pretty sure you're correct there. Scratch seems adamant about taking every spot he can to explain this one through. Kind of strange, even for him."  

Jake sighed. 

"To be forthright this new conversation is amounting to something perfectly mundane already."

"In fairness, shit is fairly mundane. What did you expect?" 

"Dirk, is there a reason why you still keep your distance from me?"

"What?"

"Regardless of what we happen to be doing you always seem worlds away. There always seems to be a thought you are failing to share or a reaction you are holding back intentionally. Do you not trust me?" 

"......."

"I suppose my prattling is rather needless in nature. I wont blame you if you fail to humor it with a reply. However i have had something on the mind for a while now and i absolutely cannot shake it off the brain. 

Would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the shower, Jake originally had a line about how they would be fucking on the floor by now if this was a respectable fanfiction. It was redacted for being “too real”.


	16. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter definitely has a huge tw for gore.  
> But I have something else huge. A huge thanks for all my readers!  
> I totally appreciate every kudo I've received, as well as every kind comment on this work.  
> Keep being awesome, and try not to think too hard about updates like this one.

July 7th, 2501

John entered the front door to his house after a long night of piano playing. Once the door had been closed, he carefully took off his suit coat and placed it on a metal hook. Immediately after the collar of the garment rested on the metal, the hook retracted into a hole in the wall to bring the coat to a small enclosure behind his automated closet. After the minute long process ended, a new empty hook emerged in the prior one’s place.

John stretched his arms up. He heard a muffled noise coming from the television, giving him cause to walk over and watch what played. On the screen, black and white slides displayed information from a recent government announcement. Something about non-harmful, something about doctors…just another useless update about another useless edict that probably won’t go anywhere.

Since the failure of the economic leveling, he placed little faith in anything the government sponsored. It seemed that everything they did held the intent of furthering the progression of the most intelligent without leaving any room for the ignorant, nor did they leave any opportunities for those deemed below the 90 line to research to catch up. And considering how small the population became in recent years, it was clear that whatever intent they held behind their actions move wasn’t coming to fruition properly.

While he wouldn’t articulate it outside of the house, for all of the questionable decisions the government made, John thought that the public’s general apathy to change was far more detrimental than the actions of the government itself. A small group here or there would articulate interest in programs that they thought would better further social conditions, but in the end, nobody felt fervent enough about the cause to give much of a hand with anything. Even after the walls came up, the biggest public show of disapproval was a protest march that lasted thirty minutes. Fifteen minutes into the march, people started becoming tired of being around each other, so much so that the disbandment happened internally. Because of events of the sort, punishments for dissidents on a state level barely needed to be enacted, because those who felt passionate enough about change to articulate it held a tendency to socialize at random, which landed them into dire scenarios quickly.

Whatever.  
  
In his state of malcontent, John muted his television, sitting down on his couch to take out a notebook and pen from a small pocket at the side. The notebook took the form of a black pad with a blue cover on it. The notebook worked digitally, synching with the thoughts of the user in order to control the pen’s movements across the screen. While it couldn't manipulate how the user held the pen, it could ensure that every stroke taken down upon it suited whatever lettering style the user idealized. While the notebook was most useful for drawing, especially because of the existence of thought-oriented typing technology, it did allow for the creation of unique fonts without legibility variance between typefaces, making the process appealing for the visually inclined. 

While John would occasionally log down reminders for himself, he primarily used his notebook to keep track of jokes. He would jot down whatever pun or quip came to mind for thirty minutes a day, diligently reviewing and altering them the following night. From time to time, he played with the idea of increasing how much time was allocated to the task, but it just resulted in him spending less and less time doing it. He would crawl to his piano instead, fumbling over notes in lazy combinations until he got the hang of a song or two.

With the meager few songs that he learned to adequately play on that procrastination piano, he took up a restaurant job as a night musician. He never received any accolades for excellence, but he did take in a decent amount of tips for being “cute”.

After folding the cover of the notebook back, he opened up the document for the most recent page. The first portion of the document looked the same as the last time he checked it, but the second portion deviated into line upon line of what appeared like a series of music notes. While they seemed somewhat familiar, he couldn't name the song. Underneath the music notes read the following:

“it is happening again. i can feel it. last time, there was definitely a longer interval between the change. maybe they are getting shorter? from now on, i am going to have to prepare myself earlier. then again i have a lot to sort out about what to prepare.”

A sudden pain came across the lower portion of John’s leg.

“talk about self-management! hehehe. that one would be totally funny if not for the reality of it being completely sad. oh well. i hope that i am still cracking awesome jokes like that. anyway! i do not know which time i will be able to read this at- but next time, make sure to leave a set of notes in more than one place! i have a tendency of getting forgetful. and skeptical sorta. that part is the most annoying to work through.”

Two distinct waves of pain returned in the same spot. He placed the notebook to the side, reaching down in the hopes of soothing his leg with his hands.

Underneath the fabric of his jeans, John could feel something pulsing. Another shot of pain hit him, far harder than the prior ones. He cried out, carefully lifting the bottom of his pant’s leg in order to see what was wrong.

A mass of grotesque black veins protruded out of the ailing area. They layered thickly toward where the area hurt most, with the ends fanning out to gray. They ebbed to the beat of his heart, stretching outward as the color of his surrounding skin faded to white.

He attempted to pull some of the mass off of him, struggling futility as it continued to pulsate. The movements of his hands only caused the veins to expand further up along his leg, burrowing into him with a cutting pain.

Upstairs. The med box.

He grit his teeth and stood up, limping over to his carpeted stairs. Step by step, he climbed upward, crying out in shock as a full wave of pain took hold of his entire body. The saliva in his mouth began to taste bitter, with the faint taste of blood increasing in strength.

If he could just enter his room, a small first aid kit would be waiting near his dresser. He couldn't begin to think of having to leave the house, and as small as it was, the contents inside would have to be enough. 

Once at the top of the stairs, he opened up his bedroom door.

Hundreds of notes covered every wall of the room, with the text fully indiscernible unless closely inspected. All of them were scrawled in black pen, meaning that someone took the time to write out each and every one by hand. To make matters worse, there seemed to be no noticeable indications that someone had been in his home before him. Had he been negligent with locking up his back door? Or closing the window in his kitchen?

A few of the notes fell to the floor as he made his way into the room.  John slowly made his way over to inspect them, fighting back a growing hysteria.

“step one- let the wound fester; rip open underlying flesh with a knife. once it’s open, tear it as wide as possible, letting the contents drip out fully before proceeding.”

“don’t touch it! it will just grow out again and eventually cause a few organs to stop functioning properly. just sit there and wait for me.”

“step two- reach through the unearthed flesh and let the veins take hold. your mind might haze a lot during the process, but that is alright.”

“i wonder if you remember that conversation with dave last week. he is getting to be kind of a bummer to be around, but at least he’s helpful.”

“step three- no, that’s not right. okay. so i think what we need to do is to sort of sew up everything. there was a time where it sat on your mouth and just kept growing, so we had to cut across your face to settle it.”

“you can scream for help all you want, but nobody is going to come to save you. they’ll just try to kill you. they think you are an abomination.”  
  
“wait for me on the bed this time! it will be easier than trying to cut you on the floor.”

Footsteps became audible in the living room.

John ran to lock his bedroom door.The mass of veins on the skin of his leg began to warp, clutching down in one violent seize, which felt akin to a bear trap closing in.  He bit his lip down to keep quiet, crying silently as he stumbled back. Another clawing sensation forced him to the floor. His lungs began to feel heavy with liquid, making it harder to breathe. He wearily reached for a hammer sitting atop his windowsill, poising it in hand as he heard the footsteps increase in volume.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY. LEAVE!”

After a moment of silence, John heard three knocks against his door. He heard the sound of a key inserting into the lock at the door, turning slowly. 

Instead of the stranger he presumed at the doorway, there stood someone that looked exactly like himself. The exception was that the right half of his face was completely covered in the same black mass of vein that ran across his leg, pulsing all the same. He moved forward to the first John, which resulted in the original jolting forward to swipe his hammer across his feet.

The second John stepped back, speaking in a calm tone.

“this won’t end unless you let me help you. i know how to make the pain go away.”

A wave of nausea overcame the first John, causing him to cover his mouth. A flood of black streamed up his throat, which he was forced to vomit onto the floor. He cried in his frustration, the tears every bit of black as the substance welling within him again. Some of it touched against the shoes of his clone as he began to speak once more. 

“it is trying to open you up. i can close you again.”

The first John weakly swiped his hammer again at the second, his eyes overcome with red from his tears. The second John gently kneeled down to push him back, carefully removing the hammer from his grip. He set it by the window it came from. He then carried the first John in his arms, laying him down on the bed. The first John struggled to cry out, to yell for the second to stop, but the fluid now inundating his throat prevented him from making sound.

The second sat next to him on the end of the bed, adjusting the first’s pant leg to fully reveal the mass of vein. He reached down to brush against it with his hand, resulting in a few stunted cries from the first.

“it will be over in a second. i promise.”

The hand that touched the mass grew white, the tone soon creeping up along his arm. The vein began to reconfigure for him, creating a circular, closed black welt lined with the veins at the side. The fluid inside of the first began to spill out of the wound, forming a small pool on top of the bed.

The second John began to push his hand inside the wound. The first jolted up, spilling more black fluid out of his mouth. The areas underneath where the fluid hit on his shirt began to burn. All the while, the second pushed his hand in deeper. 

Once some time had passed and his arm was a good ways in, the second brushed up the first's shirt. Sure enough, the emergence of a second vein cloister began to take place. The first John could only lay, silently crying once more as the second’s free hand entered the second opening, again causing the black to spill. As the pool grew larger, it began to trickle down side of the bed, loudly hitting against the floor as the process continued.

The second's skin began to tear and crack. Pools of the black began to flow down along the opened flesh with greater intensity as time went on. The first John’s torso skin began to turn white and peel back as the bone of the second sunk down into the wound.

The first fell unconscious as he saw the deteriorating skeleton of the second fall within him.

When John awoke, he was whole.

As he anticipated, the walls of his room were still covered with the notes he left for himself. He always left clues to his partitions, because when he splintered into two, his entire personality reconfigured for each of them. He couldn’t predict how they would divide, or what experiences they would have, but he always gained memory of what happened with each in the aftermath.

The first time he attempted the process of leaving notes, he procrastinated and left it up to the partitions to take care of it. The partition that remembered foolishly planted a single note in the kitchen downstairs. Unfortunately, the second partition did not retain the memory of their splice. He paid no mind to the note as he was in the process of cooking dinner, grabbing a knife as the first of the two entered the room to join back up with him. The second partition stabbed the first, refusing to let up. It grew into a frenzy as one stab became two, then four, then six, then eight. The first fought back to little avail, until he remembered some spare piano wire he left in his pocket from his last practice. He unwound it and cut off the knife hand of the second, doing the same with the other hand to ensure he would be prevented from attacking further. With shredded skin layering on his torso, he attempted to perform completion by slipping his hands into the other’s arms. 

The second time he attempted the process, he skipped writing any note and willed himself into believing in two different accounts of his separation process, which unfortunately resulted in the first of his partitions believing that the transmutation was a recurring nightmare, while the second partition began to fetishize the combination. This unfortunately resulted in the second of the partitions breaking into the house through the window at night. The first paced the house in an attempt to calm his thoughts, hoping that he wouldn’t have to sleep. The second grabbed the other by the hands and tossed the other up against the closest wall. He placed his hands to either side of his head, muttering something about their encounter being destined before he moved in to intertwine their tongues. In his fright, the first snapped the second’s neck. He then attempted to burn the corpse by separating the body into pieces and lowering the individual components onto the flame of his stove, but the black ooze from the body just pooled on the floor, burning the first’s body as they merged again.  
  
The third time, John put a sign in his living room explaining the process to his partitions in full. He left no detail out, including how the partitions related to one another. The first of the partitions tossed it in the trash because they thought it was a practical joke. The second thought that the first was his fraternal brother, inevitably causing them to develop a deep, respectful relationship between themselves once they crossed paths. When the veins began to emerge, they began to freak out, yelling about how they would miss each other before they slowly decomposed into puddles on the floor.

Presently, the liquid on John’s floor began to evaporate as it always did after a successful fuse.

Though he felt tired, John stood up and began to take down the notes on his walls. It certainly did stall himself like he planned. Not to mention, the first of his partitions wasn’t strong enough to severely injure the other this time.

The first did seem pretty intent on finding and maiming the other for stealing his piano spot, though, and that anger did well up while he was sitting on the floor. Maybe he could leave a few books around about being good friends with your enemies? No, that might result in something really weird. Worst case scenario, that would result in his clones going over to Jake’s house to bring him cookies and stuff. Eugh. Hell no!

After his bedroom walls were taken care of for the night, he settled back down on his bed, thinking over what happened.

The first of the partitions received his piano skills, affability, and retention of his transmutation. He also remembered where he placed the secondary set of keys to his house, allowing him to enter the front door and his bedroom without struggle. He learned some information from Dave, and gave some away. He forgot to tell him something vital though. Hell, he forgot to tell something vital to Dirk too. On a more absurd note, the first thought he was a shapeshifter who would lose his memories after five days if he didn’t find his matching host.

The second of the partitions received his volatility, skills with baking, and kept what little weapons mastery he had. He forgot that he kept two pairs of keys for every room in the house after the starvation incident. He thought that he was trying to work to save up money for his career as a comedian, even though there is tons of money in the house. He never got a chance to talk to Dave, and for whatever reason, he took a liking to his brother. He started to play a song for Dirk after he left to follow the first out of the restaurant, and Jake looked totally pissed as a result! Hahaha!

That is so worth doing again. It’s just too bad that Dirk got dragged away from the first.

John drifted to sleep, telling himself that he would contact Dave again in the morning to straighten things out.

 

 


	17. Dancing and Damning (Part 2)

July 6th, 2501

Once outside, John leaned against one of the brick back-alley walls. A couple took notice of Dave and John entering, causing one to yell about how the mood was ruined. The other asked if 'the blonde one was the head DJ for the night- they had the same hair and everything- same bizarre shades'. Without talking about an answer, the two of them started to stumble over one another on their way out of the alley, laughing in their drunken stupor as they made their way to the nearest hotel.  

Dave watched them leave as he leaned back against the wall adjacent to John. 

"are you intending to voice a legitimate urgent matter this round 

or is it more boring shit like a status report on the harley plant patch

gotta know how attentive I have to be for the next few minutes”

“dude! that is so rude. regardless of the future content of my words, i have a very important lesson to share. I think that any situation can be made entertaining if you just look at it in a different light. all you have to do is change your perspective on it, even when it comes to finding good in some of the kooky things i have to say to you.”

“i think everyone knows that bullshit is purely woven for people condemned to mundane lives for moral or financial reasons

paint drying will never be more entertaining than watching a color adhere to a wall

you can fool yourself into thinking that shit becomes a miraculous world of wonder by envisioning that the paint is contorting into a sicknasty silhouette of marie antoinette smashing through the city that misattributed that cake line  

but in the end the alleviation of the monotony is fleeting and false 

it really just means that the person failed to make their life interesting through their actions

why are you just sitting on the floor

go the fuck outside and frolic through a patch of poison ivy

use your phone to research DIY item sorting systems 

take out a book from the library and learn something that you can talk about without feeling a gratuitous amount of shame

'hey i envisioned that the orange on my table talked to me' okay bye 

i think the majorly overlooked point here is that we’re all malleable constructs with the potential to bend in a million and one ways

and no matter how you think about things- you’re primarily going to be meaningful for the outward manifestation of yourself

eg don't toss me boring bullshit and put the blame on me for not thinking its great”

“as harsh as that sounds i think i agree with your point. i will try to not be as prone to bringing you over every story that happens around town so much as........most of them! and while i hate to say it, jake has been doing better at making himself interesting than i have recently. he is really trying to mold himself into one of those cool comic guys instead of a nerd that collects movie stuff. 

anyway!

i have good news! 

just the other day, i got to see your brother at the restaurant i work in.”

“wait- you were in the same place as dirk”

“yeah! on the downside I was in the same place as jake again. they were sitting with one another. “

“what no”

“i am pretty certain that jake is his appointed yettodie.”

“that kind of shit should be fucking illegal”

“i don’t make the rules dave! i only report on tragic events when they happen if i am inclined to do so.

“i am going to deliberately ignore this cliffward train in trade for asking about how dirk is doing

did he like

you know

did he look like he was upset”

“no. to be perfectly honest, he looked kind of happy.”

“…… oh”

“I am sure it is not because he is forgetting about you or anything! I think it is just that jake is being nice to him.”

“if that much is true

i can live with it”

“yeah. i still hate jake though.”

“I am all for joining in on the jake bashing with that guys conversational record 

but you have to drop it now and again

like 70% of the shit out of your mouth is about how bad that guy is

why cant it be reduced to 40%

the recovered 30% can be directed to the 'tell me more shit about my lost brother' fund

i am standing here with open arms and pockets for the details dude”

John punched Dave across the arm and laughed. He continued to speak with him as they headed toward Dave’s home.

* * *

 Meanwhile, the interior of the nightclub buzzed with excitement, with the gambling rooms the most lively area of all. People filled each room to the brim, trying their best to outsmart other participants to rob them of their money. A few specialized rooms contained prize offerings from the night club itself. Club rewards contained far greater risks for loss compared to the risks for playing directly against other participants. If a loser was lucky, they would only have to shell out the entire sum of their pockets. People that were less lucky would have to either dance in one of the more dangerous programs in the main hall, or they would have to become a courtesan within the VIP rooms for a night. Because guards (human and non-human) would see to it that the tasks would be done, everyone fulfilled the terms of their loss agreement. On this particular night, the largest risk didn’t come from the club, but from a group of participants in a room dedicated to blackjack.   

Like other rooms, the blackjack room was classy in every regard. The room had red walls covered in screens revolving between pictures of recent champions. The floors were black- cleanable at the push of a button. Knife-shaped glass pieces hung down from a green-cored chandelier on the ceiling. A green table sat underneath it with an automated card distribution system. Hosts for the game were unnecessary, because the table could manage them on its own. Along with ensuring that games carried out as they were intended to, the table could also read thoughts for the purpose of preventing against cheating. Cameras sat embedded in the room at all sides, further protecting against cheats. The club encouraged users to settle their own agreements- for that reason, the gold doors of the gambling hall are lockable and soundproof.  

“♦: Would you viddy the listo on this moodge.”

Droog tipped up the cheap hat on the man held up at the arms by Boxcars and Deuce.

“♦: Lucky for you, we in the crew here like to think ourselves a bunch of reasonable individuals. We aren’t going to vred you up into a horrorshow.”

Diamonds Droog, the brains of the Midnight crew, is a slender man of little word. However, if keeping face necessitated that he become eleemosynary with his elocution, he will serve out as many words as it took for the bratchny in his presence to get with the appy polly loggy. He never aims for the verbal reparations, he goes for the bugatties and pawn-offs to fund his ever-expanding closet. He thinks of himself as the manager of the group’s appearance, because without him- lets be honest. The crew would just be a tough gang of ordinary hoodlums. He brings the style. He brings the finesse. He brings the schemes and the coordination. If not for Slick being more forthright at lording over these flies, he would be appointed as the leader of the pack. He keeps a careful eye over the others, but keeps his distance because he's cool like that. 

“♦: Now my man Boxcars here- he’s a fickle guy. Gets real testy if he isn’t treated with respect. I don’t know how you define fair treatment, but slipping a few homebrew cards into the running deck doesn’t too respectful to me. ”

Boxcars held up the man’s arm, pressing an increasingly large amount of pressure on it.

_ “I didn’t short you no fucking cards- ah, fuck! Get your drooling mongrel the hell off of me.” _

The man struggled in the grip, only resulting in the grip tightening further.

Boxcars, the brawn of the midnight crew, has a heart as large as his muscles. His muscles, for reference, are pretty damn big. When he's not busy clocking the daylights out of whoever had it coming, he's busy growing more powerful so he can clock out more daylights. There’s a rumor spreading through the underground that his jaw alone is so powerful that he can rip a man’s head off in two minutes flat. He rescinds the sentiment because it only takes him thirty seconds. Hearts is a casual dresser and doesn’t concern himself too much with word. Nevertheless, he hangs around Droog a lot because they balance each other out proper. He keeps Droog all empathetic like, Droog keeps him all sharp like. He’s got some problems with clubs for being a quick talking short stack, but reveres Slick as a cutthroat.

“♦: Oh, he doesn’t like being called a dog. He really doesn’t like being called a dog. Spades- would you call that much a respectful thing to say?”  

“♠: Stop playin’ with your fuckin’ toys and just snap his arms off already. No more of this slow weedling crap either, I want a clean ‘crchk’. If I don’t hear a good bone sent to hell in five, I’m slicing him up like a butcher’s special.”

Boxcars took to task immediately, smiling as he broke one of the man’s arms with an excruciating snap. The man yelled, attempting to pull back with his good arm.  

“♥: Got it covered, boss. Hahaha. Droog, you want to keep this one for your wall?”

“♦: I just got a new arm last week, Hearts. But take me a nail or two. I can paint them up real pretty and liven up the ol’ work desk.”

Spades is a gruff man with a look that could knock a man cold. He is a real bonafide killer, and shit doesn't stop at the ladies. He’d take down anyone if he had cause to dislike them. Hell, he’ kill a child if they had themselves fraternizing with the wrong type of people (those people being the canoodlers with the government’s impotent flesh rod). But damn if he doesn't get things done. The only person safe from his scrutiny is the darling Miss P. who lives near the core of town. He keeps a picture of her in his wallet to remind himself about the good things in life. After all, she is the only person that can stand level in his interest with those cute scottie dog pups that run around a lot and act real friendly like. He thought about proposing to her, but he couldn’t drag her through this killing-stealing- shady mess. He vowed to take care of her from afar, and to stab Scratch when he comes to visit her doorstep. Sigh. 

Hearts happy whistled as he got to peeling off the nails of the man's hand. Clubs began to laugh to himself. He fished in one of the man’s lower pockets while retaining his hold on the man's good arm. 

“♣: Wouldya’ look at this bounty? Newsflash my brothers, this guy has a killing tucked away in here! You want a thou each? Two thou? I know that our gruesome twosome have been raring for a right proper magazine fill and you all should be upright for weeks! ”

“♠: Do me a favor and just nab what he’s got.”

“♣: Aye aye captain!”

Droog sent Clubs a glare for decorum breaching. They're a group of mobsters, not fucking sailors. 

“♣: Ohhhh! Shivers shivers! It’s a good thing that we ought not to turn gaze to the sun- you would freeze it right up!”

Clubs is unique. The guy is as short as can be, with just enough strength to him to make him a good strongman. He has a bit of a stomach to him, with a slight red always on his cheeks. He’s the most expressive, and the most prone to openly sharing his thoughts, even in the middle of a kill. His relentless positivity has become one of the crew’s largest assets. It’s a lonely life to walk, after all. Shanking people at all opportunities doesn’t leave much room for non-crew company. Especially not after the death of……bless their hearts and rest their souls. They don’t mention their names anymore. Aside from keeping everyone out of madness, Clubs is also an adept cook and thespian with knowledge of sixteen languages. He reveres Droog and Boxcars like his loving older brothers, with Slick revered like his negligent, violent father.    

Hearts took five of the man’s finger nails in his palms, and walked out of the room with Droog. Deuce snagged all of the cash that the man possessed and scrambled after them. He yelled to the others about how important and awesome it was to talk in proper tongue about responsibility and the like. Real important. Real awesome. 

Spades took out a dagger and carved an 'S' into the man’s broken arm.

“♠: We’ll be comin’ for your other arm too if you play anyone else around here. You hear?”

He kicked the man in the groin. The man fell to the ground, yelling a stream of obscenities as the crew went to bank their earnings in their mansion lair.  

* * *

Elsewhere on July 6th, 2501

 “……Yes. It would be okay if you kissed me.”

With his legs folded, Jake sat next to Dirk on the couch. His hands nervously curled and uncurled on his own lap.

“Is that so? I did not expect that my offering would be accepted so early. See now i am right elated and busy with a proper case of the nerves at the same time.”

“If it’s any help- I don’t exactly have much experience with this type of deal. I have enough experience for competency, but it's nothing to brag about.”

“Oh! Me neither! I mean I do not want to boast that as it is something of a confidence cracker but it is nice to know I am in even company. In fact it might just be perfectly comforting to know that is the case. Nevertheless i still cannot shake the notion out of my head and to be forthright i might have just turned over and died at the spot if you had turned me down.”

Dirk reached forward to gingerly brush Jake’s bangs to the side.

“You could have lived. To help assuage your nerves, I know there’s a lot of pressure on getting shit right the first time with a person. I’m not even entirely sure where you want this to go or how much emotional weight you're placing on it. Regardless of that, I can say that I’m willing to try out some different things with you for a while until we get it right. Especially because it's only a kiss.”

Jake smiled brightly. He reached forward to take off Dirk’s shades, setting them down along the back portion of the couch. The orange of Dirk's eyes still looked just as entrancing as the first day he looked at them. It was almost a shame that he showed them so infrequently.

“Where exactly I hold intent, along with the extent of it, can be properly discussed in the aftermath of the task here. For now, um. Would you be so kind as to close your eyes for me?”

Dirk closed his eyes. He kept his hands rested down on his own lap. They were perfectly still. 

Once Dirk could no longer see, Jake turned his gaze to the light coming down from their recently muted television. He hardened his resolve, looking at Dirk once more. He moved a hand to rest at the side of his face, leaning in to close the gap.

He pressed gently against Dirk's lips. They were somewhat dry, but soft. Warm. He remained there for a moment, attempting to memorize the feeling for later.  

Dirk lightly pressed his lips back against Jake's before he pulled back.

“That fucking sucked. Dude, you need to put a little more pressure into it.”

Jake turned red.

"That was blunt now wasnt it. I was underneath the impression that you were going to be careful about your criticisms. Alright then. I suppose ill just um. Fix that up."

He hardened his resolve, pulling Dirk forward for a stronger kiss.

In his excitement to do better, he mashed their mouths together awkwardly, causing Dirk to pull back again.

“And now you’ve gone way too far. I don't know why this specific image came to mind, but it was kind of like kissing a moving tractor tire. Pay attention.”

Dirk leaned forward and kissed Jake gingerly, ensuring that he started simple. He placed down enough pressure to signify intent, but went lightly enough to avoid causing him any discomfort. 

“See? It feels a lot better that way.”

“I do see what you mean there. Let me try again.”

Jake leaned in and mirrored Dirk's attempt perfectly. However, out of nervousness to follow the action at an exact, he didn't do anything further.

Dirk pulled back.

“You’re getting there. That one wasn’t bad, but it also felt like the work of a zombie. It was a passionate zombie, but still a zombie. Once you’re into a kiss, it’s fair game to either begin moving a bit, or to start pressing a small succession of further kisses to keep it from growing boring. Despite popular depiction, physicality does grow old pretty quickly without variation.”

Dirk leaned in once more, starting yet another kiss. He turned his head at a slight, pressing smaller kisses to Jake’s mouth.

Jake pulled back in his excitement, laughing loudly. He placed his hands over his mouth. 

“Oh hell no man. You cant do that this early! That was like a movie kiss!!”

“Yeah, a movie kiss in a PG 13 film.”

“Ohoho! Getting cheeky are we? Would we be able to entertain a smooch of a higher rating?”

“No.”

“Drat.”

“What do you mean ‘drat’? We just started this shit two minutes ago.”

“But I am eager to learn more!”

“Now we’re entering porn dialogue.”

“Dirk you absolutely ruined the moment.”

“Good.”

Jake laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I hope that kiss was alright to give.”

“Just barely, but I’ll let you slip by.”  

They spent the rest of the night trying to perfect their basic ass kiss, going to sleep contented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're GETTING PLACES!! Get excited, folks. 
> 
> For those confused about Droog's abnormal vocabulary- he's employing slang featured in Clockwork Orange (otherwise known as Nadsat). The work comes as a substantial part of his basis, as evidenced by his name, many of his attitudes, his theme Carbon Nadsat, and his weapon the ultra-violence cuestick. While he doesn't seem to employ any of the vocabulary in the passages surrounding his actions in the intermission, I thought that the inclusion of the words in his dialogue would make him more distinctive. 
> 
> On a similar note, a number of other small tweaks have been made to the different crew members for the purpose of fitting them into the story better, as [trumpets sound] they will be made into regular characters with a definite plot function soon. 
> 
> [ Stay fresh. ](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/splatoon/images/a/a2/CEaNDO0WEAApq0L.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20150507151016)


	18. Dave

The evening of July 6th, 2501

Dave waved to John. He started off on the path to wherever his eccentricism would take him, which on this particular day, happened to be toward his own home. On more than one occasion, out of concern for his well-being, Dave offered to walk with him. However, because of a few unfortunate spats involving the modus operandi a particular John would latch onto, he learned that allowing the partitions to go where they wished to only resulted in John getting hurt, as opposed to John and 2-5 unfortunate individuals caught in his path of action getting hurt.

After he ensured that he was well out of sight, Dave placed on a set of black and red earbuds and started to walk back to his own home.

While the streets surrounding the club maintained the cold appearance of the main streets, wandering further off revealed row upon row of colorful stores and homes. Small patches of grass replaced themselves with patches of sand, growing thick enough to drift into the streets whenever the district would be hit with a passing wind. Cracks and crevices in buildings would be lightly touched with the yellow of the dust. Porches, windows, and doors needed to be cleaned often. Local residents wore sunglasses frequently to protect their eyes from any damage. For this reason, wearing sunglasses came to work as a form of location identification, among all other functions.

The people of the poor districts (the outskirts) had a greater inclination to outside involvement than the other areas. People sat with one another more frequently, often taking lawn chairs and beanbags outside to rest on. However, they still harbored the same animosity that people in other areas of Alternia did. The seats would be placed few and far between. Gatherings would be infrequent, and usually held in secret to avoid exterior scrutiny. Concerts and other entertainment events would involve at least of foot of distance between each attendee, rendering population restrictions far more constricted than even some capital/core areas.

In the middle of his leisurely gait, what looked like a humanoid shark in a bright red dragon suit popped out of an alleyway. They ran across the street, taking Dave by the hand as they did. Dave made a statement of protest and pulled back before he was flung forward against the side of a building in front of them. An angry looking male with a sickle in hand followed the two of them with one hand pocketed, silently gesturing for him to follow with a nod of the head. The girl fixed her grip to extend to holding both of Dave's arms, laughing audibly as they continued their journey.

They crossed through side streets with remarkable ease. Now and again, they would have to reconfigure their route, causing Dave to struggle and protest to a greater degree than he already was. They mostly ignored it, though after one particularly brazen implication about their cause, the girl licked up along the side of Dave's face to shut him up. She then resumed her indifferent dragging while the boy behind her turned his eyes to the sky.

The "kidnappers" couldn't have been any older than Dirk's age. While it was comforting to Dave that they likely weren't out to drag him into anything too serious, it could also potentially mean that they held less practice with whatever they were about to do than someone who practiced for years. 

After their walk concluded, they reached a desert clearing a mile or two before the beach near Dave's home. The faint scent of ocean water carried across the land. The light breeze shifted the pattern of the sand below their feet into small spirals. Shells and bottles blatantly protruded up from the ground, liable to cut someone not wearing shoes. The city could be seen with a turn of head, but the two strangers seemed intent on keeping Dave faced in the other direction.

As they came to stop, the girl placed her cane down into the sand. The boy moved to stand beside her.

“RO4DK1LL, 1 4M SUR3 YOU 4R3 WOND3R1NG WHY W3 THOUGHT 1T W4S 4 GOOD 1D34 TO STOP YOU 1N TH3 PROC3SS OF R3TURN1NG TO WH4T3V3R YOU W3R3 BOUND TO DO”

4S 4 L3G1SL4TOR OF TH3 H1GH3ST D3GR33- 1 D3CL4R3 TH4T OUR PR3S3NC3 UPON TH1S M3N14L SPOT OF L4ND W4S NOT TO F3TT3R YOUR FL33T1NG T1M3, BUT TO BR1NG YOU FORTH 1NTO 4 GR34T3R C4US3 TH4N YOUR T1NY H34D H4S 3V3R KNOWN

W3 C4NNOT L4C3 YOUR 3NTR4NC3 1NTO TH3 T4SK B3FOR3 YOU W1TH 4NY 3XPL4N4T1ON OR FOR3THOUGHT, 4S D1VULG1NG 3V3N TH3 T1N13ST OF D3T41LS COULD G3T 4LL OF OUR 4SS3S C4NN3D L1K3 F1N3 S4LMON

4ND TH3R3 W1LL NOT B3 4NY 1N1T14T1ON C3R3MONY 1NTO TH1S 3SOT3R1C PURSU1T OF 4 GR34T3R GOOD SHORT OF 4 F3W QU3ST1ONS"

Dave folded his arms one over the other. He either was being invited into a newly hashed club, or he was about to be mugged.   

“QU3ST1ON ON3! WHY DO YOU BLOG SO MUCH?? >:?”  
  
“i am not even going to bother asking how you know i blog because it is pretty much common knowledge at this point 

but before i get to answering that highly serious question

i have to ask about shortfuse to the side there

is the sickle thing a punishment for refraining from speech

am i a hapless actor in low budget saw”

“NO, DIPWAD. MY PRESENCE HERE WAS FOR NOTHING OTHER THAN TO REGULATE TEREZI'S BEHAVIOR. AN INSUFFERABLE SERIES OF EVENTS LEFT US SHORTHANDED, NECESSITATING THE INTERMITTENT EXCHANGE OF SOMEONE ADEPT AT ENGAGING IN VERBAL COMMUNICATION IN A TOLERABLE MANNER FOR DOUBLE DRAGON OVER HERE. FOR MY SAKE ABOVE ALL OTHERS, CONSIDER ME NOTHING OTHER THAN A BIZARRELY DECORATED POLE WHICH LACKS EXACTLY AS MUCH FREEDOM IN THE PROCEEDINGS AS YOU DO.”

“im going to consider you the world's loudest non-sentient object

alright so to get back to question i am not obligated to answer 

i guess you could say its an inclination to substantiate my free time somehow

its that shit or bones and as far as i can tell my jars are mostly full”

“4DRO1TLY SPOK3N, 4ND SUDD3NLY 1 D3C1D3DLY DON’T C4R3 4BOUT TH3 OTH3R D3T41LS

QU3ST1ON TWO!

D1D YOU KNOW TH4T YOU 4R3 CURR3NTLY ON3 OF TH3 MOST FR3QU3NTLY R34D VO1C3S 1N TH3 C1TY?"

“yeah

i mean i kind of knew it

but despite prior boasting i also haven't internalized that much yet

you know that feeling where you look at the statistics of something but you can’t really comprehend the amount of people looked at something you did

or in this case they’re still in the process of looking at a regular basis

in a way it helps to say fuckall to internalizing the thought entirely in trade for focusing on presentation

because if you are putting out something that is worthwhile to someone other than yourself in a marginal way

then the number of subsequent lives it affects does not really matter

unless someone later down the line pulls something fucking fantastic out of their ass as a direct result of something you did 

then it would probably be good to know that you racked up those kind of situational stats for the purpose of narrowing your content in the future accordingly”

“1 4M ST4RT1NG TO TH1NK L1M1T1NG TH4T PR1OR QU3ST1ON TO 'Y3S' OR 'NO' WOULD H4V3 B33N 3FF1C13NT

QU3ST1ON THR33!

HOW DO YOU F33L 4BOUT TH3 CURR3NT W4Y 4LT3RN14 1S B31NG RUN?””

“it depends 

did you come from the administration to put a beat on me”

“JUST 4NSW3R TH3 QU3ST1ON”

“okay i hate it

ever since that wall thing was enacted things have been going back to shit

i don't know if there was a point in time when things havent been at least moderately shitty around here

but this is the first time that they've started to bust out some 1984 shit

whats next

limitations in language

am i not going to be able to pop a squat in my own home without confidence that scratch wont be vaguely fiddling his hands over it

aside from the travel delays i know at least ten people who did business out of state

or ‘city’ as we've been denoting it to make the absence of population look cute

and now it is taking eons to get shorter returns

considering the pattern of rule development its likely that they will keep gradually making initiatives to eventually-”

“GR34T YOU’R3 H1R3D”

“do i get a say in my participation in whatever the fuck is going on”

“YOU C4N TRY, 

BUT ULT1M4T3LY YOU’LL COM3 TO TH3 R34L1Z4T1ON TH4T W3 H4V3 TH3 W1S3ST P4TH OF 4CT1ON

TH3 OTH3R CHO1C3S 4R3 JUST STUP1D NONS3NS3 DR4FT3D BY 1NCOMP3T3NT TONGU3S

W3’LL K33P YOU POST3D WH3N W3 OFF1C14LLY N33D YOU, BUT UNT1L TH4T PO1NT CONS1D3R YOURS3LF 4N UNOFF1C14L M3MB3R”

“of what”

“TH4TS CL4SS1F13D

DUH!

TH3S3 SORTS OF TH1NGS 4R3 N3V3R R34D1LY R3L4Y3D UNT1L TH3Y B3COM3 SUCH 4 D3L4Y3D 1NCONV3N13NC3 TH4T 3V3RYON3 1S L3FT TO WOND3R 1F 34RN1NG TH3 KNOWL3DG3 1S WORTH 1T 1N TH3 F1RST PL4C3

4ND Y3T TH3 F33L1NG OF G41N1NG TH3 KNOWL3DG3 B3COM3S 4LL TH3 GR34T3R B3C4US3 OF TH3 STRUGGL3 TH4T 3NSU3D ON TH3 P4TH

W3’LL B3 MON1TOR1NG YOU CLOS3LY, RO4DK1LL!”

The girl began to walk away, raising a hand in the air to tell the boy with her to follow. He looked at Dave once before turning to walk with her, slinging his sickle over his shoulder.

Dave stood in disbelief for a few minutes. He then turned to go home himself.

The exterior of his home changed significantly in the course of a year. A series of sword marks covered the outer walls and the front door. The count of the marks rose by the day, usually signifying nothing other than another day's passage. A single orange wind chime now hung on a once-empty space above the porch. Some gaudy caulk had been slathered every which way over an indent that a soldier had made just to the interior of the base of the door. The caulk would be sanded down every sunday by Bro, marking one of his few appearances around the house.

Before Dirk left, Bro took regular absences from the house, but he never took them to his current frequency. Now a faded memory, he once stayed within the house for as many non-work hours as he could, ensuring that the two brothers would be raised properly. The change kind of sucked, but whatever. Better have him gone than deal with him around. 

His new excuse was that he worked as a “film producer”. While it wasn’t explicitly a lie, it also wasn’t truth considering that he worked in the production of snuff films, sold independently off his website. If not for the significant dwindling of media sales in non-core areas, Bro was certain that he would be making a killing. Not too far of a stretch considering that his work managed to take care of the bills- something that many professions intentionally failed to do.  

Regardless of a job’s relative moral standing, lying about one’s profession of choice became something of a commonality in Alternia.

Dave walked through his door, closing it gently. He turned all three of the door lock knobs to ensure the front door couldn't be entered into, heading to his room. On the way, the open door of Dirk’s room revealed Cal sitting on the bed, untouched since his absence. All of his books and posters remained exactly in their place. Seagulls could no longer enter it for fear that they would tamper with his belongings, though they would still visit the window as if awaiting his return. 

Once he arrived at his own room, Dave sat down on his bed. His remains collection along the wall had grown far larger, with some of the jars lining the sides of the floor.

He laid and thought about the offer that the two strangers had made. Remembering the girl's note on surveillance, he carefully took out a spare bedsheet of his. He ripped off portions of them, taping them to the top of his window to prevent anyone from looking in. After some brief consideration of how it may affect the crows, he opened up the window, leaving some birdfeed outside of it before closing it again. They would understand. 

A sound from his computer caused him to turn his head. The open tab in his browser switched to an empty blog post. He slowly sat down in front of it, inspecting other open windows to ensure nothing else had changed.

The empty space began to fill with content: 

" _The fault of current attempts at progression is that they ride on the notion that collaborative usurpation is a necessity instead of a remnant of the past._

_ It has become an absolute necessity to begin working against socialization on a large scale in order to regain control, as the notion of working alongside disassociated individuals for an equivocal time period causes apathy and distaste, despite the abysmal conditions of the land we reside in.  _

_ Regardless of where we stand on a comparative standpoint, _

_ Rather than a unit of mutual dependency, the revolution must be treated as the control over individuals without the individuals thinking they are interacting in the same cause as others.  _

_ Designated points of control, leaders, need to be designated to give directives for personal action.  _

_ These leaders shall be chosen based upon their ability to affect others through word alone- those who know how to mutilate the perspective of others in any which way without giving way to lies.  _

_ Regardless of whether or not collaborative elements between the chosen come into play, the language must stay along these lines. Individual. Separation.    _

_ Communicating with our current audience necessitates it." _

After the cursor halted, Dave waited. On the moment of confirmation that the cursor wouldn't move further, he saved the content into an unpublished post to review later.  


	19. The Development of Alternia

Alternia was originally one of several interspace colony projects designated to test out human sustainment on "Earth 5".  Three hundred years ago, while fundamentally unlike Earth in construction and material composition, scientists from Earth 0 labelled ten disassociated planets 'Earths 1-10' in order to readily distinguish them as possible areas of habilitation. At that point in time, Earth zero still had about a thousand years before it would become unable to sustain life. The causes for branching outward into the other ten are widely considered to be tripartite:

1\. Scientific interest in going past prior goals necessitated the progression into unfamiliar lands to avoid repetition, as the only remaining projects involved the substantiation or alteration of pre-existent projects.

2\. Some humans no longer gained satisfaction from roaming Earth due to how limited its environmental construction was compared to the emerging planets. This created a wide market for interplanetary tourism, especially among the rich classes.

3\. A subtle hysteria developed over the "ten remaining generations". Because the limitations of scientific theory stood bright and clear, some theorized that the actual remaining generation count could be as low as 2 or 1. To avoid being a victim of an honest miscalculation, some volunteered to be guinea pigs for the new earths.    

Each Earth 1-10 project received anywhere between 5-9 colonies consisting of 10,000 people or more. Earth 5, our subject of focus, received 6 colonies titled: Alternia, Beforus, Seperan, Fixtura, Abstrataell, and Simpfoun. Each received a variety of individuals from a variety of areas around the world. Each of those colonies gained an equal number of preliminary supplies, along with translation devices to remove language barriers. No assumptions were made on the social or economic progression of the colonies, and the possibility for internally detrimental social, economic or technological progression was taken into account. 

A brief account of the net resultant of each of the areas runs as follows:  Seperan innovated machines to accelerate evolution without completely changing a human's form to metal, accidentally creating a machine so powerful that they assumed the philosophical role of god. The computer then roamed to an area where the people lived without awareness of them with the intent of fooling them into believing they were a god not made of human hands. Simpfoun became a cannibalistic society oriented around paying homage the a central "god" computer by expanding the machine's capabilities. These capabilities came to be known across the world through forced Simpfoun word of mouth. After hearing about this perfect being, Abstataell modelled itself after Simpfoun. It gradually became a peaceful society with all work ceded to androids, fully acceptant of the superior race of beings because of the personal autonomy the change in power allowed. Fixtura's population died due to the material consumption of Abastatell. Beforus feared becoming Abastatell and Fixtura, so it became a steam-oriented society, fixated on innovation to fix the faults of others. Beforus took a significant amount of the land originally sanctioned to Alternia in its pursuit of answers, resulting in Alternian turmoil over homes and occupations lost. Alternia then began to fixate on technology in a similar manner to Seperan, however, instead of evolution despite the human body, they aimed to replace it to ensure there would be no further loss of power.   

As the adage goes, there's no better insurance than an investment in the self. Aside from a frowned upon act of necessity kept secret within the tombs of the capital building, the android revolution came about in order to ensure that Alternians would always be able to protect themselves against exterior threat. Naturally, because of material limitations, these shells would be bestowed to the most intelligent ranks, rather than risk wasting the capabilities on groups comparatively likely to misuse them. This group could then be militarized to stifle the efforts of the encroaching Beforan threat, who with all luck, would not be equipped to battle as a result of their own technological decisions.  

Now equipped with more than animosity alone, Alternia gave way to war. First, Alternia waged small-scale battles on the land Beforus took in an attempt to reclaim it. They strictly attacked the areas with stolen land, marking and protecting their perimeters carefully. Then, after a few successful strikes, the capital government began to wonder if they could take more land to make up for the time lost. They attacked more, claiming Beforan ponds, rivers, swamps, fields, forests; they eventually came to the point of claiming entire towns, destroying the prior population. Their progressive lack of empathy operated under the excuse that all Beforan's held insatiable greed, and killing them would alleviate the world of a great plight. Alternians who claimed Beforan territory would rebuild there. They built their own unique cultures over time, burying the prior ones.    

Enraged and grief-stricken, Beforus began to shift its efforts to develop technology to turn the earth into weaponry. They created devices which would manipulate the brainwaves of animals to fight against oncoming soldiers. These commands started as nothing more than simple requests for merciless killing. It became apparent that they wouldn't work due to the lack of strategy the animal's employed. Bears, birds, snakes, hounds, insects- they would all be quickly killed by the soldiers and dragged home to have for dinner. To fix the issue, the scientists began complicating the commands. Take their guns, halt their feet, retrain their movement. Distract five while the others take down three. Items of use would be brought to the nearest Beforan guerrilla force to empower them as Alternia's forces weakened. Destruction of memory, economic devastation, and starvation would be inevitable for the few who survived. However, it wasn't enough against the defensive power of the Alternian android tech to prevent them from continuing to take more Beforan land. Beforus began to develop methods of warping the environment. They would create mazes leading soldiers into animal pits. They would create hills to block the path of animal movement. They would create vantage points for their guerilla forces, along with trenches for them to hide in.

Alternia began to anticipate ahead, and integrated Beforan battle strategies into their gun ranges.

The Beforans began to plan for the worst. Documented as the first internal revolt, the "usurpation"  involved the infiltration of twelve aboriginal Beforans into a space near the primary population of Alternia to begin cohering residents to turn against the government at large. They postured as middle-class Alternians. Once they successfully internalized the behavioral patterns of the area, they began to lure residents into revolt at the promise of a fairer government system taking its place. Some dissidents followed plans accordingly, resulting in the murder of ten store owners across the "city". This then inspired the decade-long automated storefront revolution, assuaging the worries of Alternian vendors. Other dissidents diverged from the plan and told others of the movement, only to be reprimanded for attempting to establish contact. Ultimately, the twelve Beforans were caught and dragged to the capital to be detained. Their punishment came swiftly- they were handed to Alternian doctors. Though the dozen of them were not to be placed in shells, they were to be given the same post-conversion treatment.

Their skeletons arrived in Beforus the next morning.  

As the tides of war continued to swirl restlessly, both nations paid as much mind to each other as they did to themselves. While area after area fluxuated in owning title in the world's register, development toward the dreams of the governing masses continued. Beforus scientists labored on several environmental purification programs. Some pertained to air regulation.  Some pertained to atmospheric alteration. Some pertained to the regeneration or alteration of areas incapable to sustain food. Alternia's scientists improved their android tech, making them more affordable, more durable, and more powerful. They expanded the amount of time it would take for soldiers to become hungry (for electricity or traditional food). They improved their defenses. They raised the requisite intelligence level for transformations. They began to experiment with area "containers" to prevent outside encroachment. Both Beforus and Alternia continued their pursuit for dominance over the other, both continued to rescind the notion of compromise.

The cost for this shamelessness remains steep.

Alternia's primary population has reduced to the numerical average of an Earth 0 city. Caste lines have deepened irreparably. Social unrest has separated the people into a despondent, untrusting mass. Homicide is a commonality. Suicide is a commonality. Language ubiquifiers from Earth 0 have been destroyed in many  sub-cities, limiting communication. Some cities hold an absence of knowledge of the existence of the others. Food supplies dwindled. Material supplies dwindled. 

Attributed to the regularity of their casualties, funerals are no longer held in Beforus. Once per year, a list of the names of the dead plays on the televisions of each Beforan city. The hundreds of bodies of the deceased are deposited into trenches. Once the process is done, they are filled to the brim with dirt. The corpses are then left to rot back into the earth. Seeds for trees and other beneficial plants are placed into earth-friendly bots, planted on the exterior of every Beforan's heart. Upon death, the bots form a series of roots. The roots crawl up toward the surface of the land, nurturing the plant seeds to maturation. If an Alternian steps near or around the fauna of the dead, they will be dragged down to be suffocated and crushed with the dirt near the corpses. 

Out of this ruination comes renewed hope.

Beforus scientists are on the verge of a substance that may be able to generate land. This land is intended to meet large air-powered fans to generate cities apart from earth entirely. Earth 5 studies could then be conducted on a larger scale, faster. Alternia would no longer be a threat. If not for the construction of the walls protecting each civilian center, this would have inevitably lead into Beforus taking out the population of Alternia for good through a series of bombings. 

Alternia's progress within itself is taking place at faster rates then ever before. Though several android models display complications with outside hacking, the rise of immortality has given way to the increase in speed of evolution's  punctuated equilibrium. An early Alternian theory stated that the longer an individual lives, the quicker they are able to apply themselves to the process of learning. The success of this theorum resulted in technology more complex then that of Earth 0 in a shorter time frame of development. 

The most prevalent of these developments has been the invention of food without requiring the death of a living thing. Much like the land synthesis project for Beforus, the emergence of the synthetic food 'Loillin' brought forth remarkable possibilities for Alternia. Aside from the potential to reduce the amount of resources the non-android population used, it also allows for longer sustainment periods for androids off to war.

While only in public release for two recent years, the development of this food began fifty years ago in secret. The first group to try the food lost their forms, yet retained their emotions. The second group  to try it experienced a gradual decay of bone and muscle from within. The third group became trapped in hedonistic hallucinations. The fourth group died immediately upon food consumption. In truth, the fourth group didn't really die, causing major problems for the otherwise minimally affected fifth group. The sixth group, the inglorious sixth group, came out of the experiment with no immediate effects. The passage of time revealed some obscure mutations, but none of which proved detrimental enough to cause the Alternian central government to refrain from distributing the food to the controllable outskirts areas.  

Earth 0 has recently cut communications with all colonies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you can whiff the pungent scent of an imminent time skip as well as I can. Smells like lavender mixed with broken dreams.


	20. The Alternian Circus: Self Reflection (Part 1)

Three years later; June 21st

Dirk and Jake stood in front of a large multicolor tent in the semi-annual Alternian circus. The tent was easily as large as Dirk's height multiplied by five. Stripes in six different colors branched out from the base of a spire at the top. The stripes divided into smaller, varied stripes as they ran down all of the tent's walls. While originally bright and fanciful, their brightness dwindled down over time. Aside from the red turning a dull maroon and the blue during a dull cerulean, splotches of dirt and soot caked the bottom of the fixture. Acting as a counterbalance for the gloomy nature of the tent as a whole, three pointed ribbons at the top of the raised spire flowed along with the wind as it brushed over the fairground.

A large separation in the tent's front tarp formed the only readily apparent entrance to the tent. While this held the capacity to engender criminal activity in lesser circuses, the abundance of security around the perimeter of the premises, and the thoroughness of the initial security checkpoint's scanning, provided more than enough protection to ensure none of the current circus cast had to worry about sealing up their tents, cars, homes and arenas. A sign sat at the top of the entrance, which read "Mirror House".

Dirk pocketed his hands. He looked at his boyfriend with a confused expression.

"Are you sure this is the attraction you want to see?"

"You know that I am hardly ever indecisive dirk. This is precisely the place."

Dirk turned eye toward a small sign at the leftmost side of the tent.

"Mirror House: Follow a path to see yourself as you are, as you have been, or as you will be. All paths are marked clearly along the floor. The **purple arrows** will lead you into **the present** , with each mirror reflecting an attitude of a component of you. **The green arrows** will lead you into **the past** , with each mirror reflecting a feeling of a component of you.  The **red arrows** will lead you into **the future** , with each mirror reflecting a decision of a component of you."

"…Which path are you going to take?"

"Though the future is tempting- I have enough control over that malarky to place my bets on the road of the past. Will you be coming with me?"

"To be honest, I think the future is more interesting."

"Have it your way then! I will meet back up with you later on." 

The two diverged on their own paths as they began to walk within the mirror house. Jake to the right, Dirk to the left. 

The tent interior was dark, but inviting. Row upon row of multicolored light strung across the ceiling, creating a display not unlike one at Christmas. Along all of the walls stood desks with illuminated vanities tethered to the back. Tacked onto the glass of the vanity, several notes addressed to nobody in particular hung. They could not be read from any point within the path maze, but could be read if someone diverged from the trail to look at them. Arrows were methodically painted every which way across the hardwood floor. The floor magnified the volume of the visitor's steps significantly compared to the faint steps resulting from the grass outside. While the floors would be an inconvenience at most other circuses because of the likely water damage, the individual pieces of wood were connected by interlocking, meaning that they could be removed and replaced regularly. Presumably, because the fair only lasted a week, they would only have to replace them right before practices for the next year's show began. 

The mirrors of the tent were arranged in maze-like rows. An overwhelming majority of them featured two faces, allowing travelers of both paths to look on the same one at once without changing what side of the mirror they stood on. If absolutely necessary, a mirror could be turned on its side to allow a visitor to cross paths. (Most likely so that they could quickly leave if they were foolish about their bathroom break timing). 

Dirk kissed Jake on the cheek before carrying off toward his future path. Jake waved to him above the mirrors as he walked through his own past path.  

On Dirk's side of the tent, the first few mirrors he looked at showed nothing more or less peculiar than any other circus mirror show. They would only distort someone's body image if you looked into them. Some would make the onlooker appear taller or shorter. Some would make the onlooker appear fatter or thinner. Some would reallocate the location of the onlooker's body fat. Whatever the distortion was, they only served to elicit a half-hearted chuckle from their audience. 

He followed the arrows diligently, paying no mind to the ones only there as placeholders and fun distractions. Most of the arrows pointed straight ahead, though some directed him to turn into a smaller mirror path to the left or right. Soon, instead of pointing for Dirk to progress ahead, a red arrow turned to face a specific mirror. Taking the arrow as a sign that the path officially started, he stopped in place, looking into the mirror ahead of it. 

Within the mirror stood a pedantic version of Dirk with a large philosophy book in hand. Rather than his usual attire, he wore eyeglasses and a dull purple sweatervest. A white shirt with elastic sleeves sat underneath it. Instead of long pants, he wore shorts, which flared out at the bottom. Sneakers and long white socks were worn on his feet. The environment behind him was a library. The duplicate in the mirror flipped the pages of his book without looking up. He began to flip the pages faster in time, only closing it when he reached the end. He then walked forward, bumping into the glass. His glasses broke, causing him to fall to the ground. He nervously played around with the hollowed black frames before tossing them to the side altogether. Steeped in embarrassment, he sat down, furiously turning through his book's pages once more.

Dirk raised an eyebrow at the display. Of the things he expected to come from this trip, he didn't expect that in the least. Regardless, he continued walking forward on the path once more. Several more arrows lead him through a maze-like pattern, once more pointing to a specific mirror to look into.

This time, the duplicate in the mirror spent his time lifting weights. He stood in a gym alone, wearing black boxers only. The muscles of the clone were visibly larger than the ones Dirk had now. They dripped with sweat as the water welled into a puddle on the floor. He trained, and trained, and trained, repeatedly raising and lowering a steel barbel. As time passed, he appeared to grow weaker. Rather unfortunately, the duplicate's arms gave way. He dropped the steel on himself, and his neck snapped underneath it. The base of the bone of the clone's neck protruded out of his head as it rolled across the mirror's projected floor. 

Shocked and disconcerted, Dirk stepped back from the mirror, carrying on. His steps increased in volume to match their increased speed. 

Far longer than the other journeys, the arrows guided him into a significantly darker room toward the back of the tent. Lights only hung above the arrow paths, giving the illusion that the other areas couldn't be navigated.

Soon enough, an arrow turned toward a mirror again.

This mirror produced fog against the black background present in the others. A floor, somewhat like the one present in the tent, could be seen. It appeared to stretch back for at least a mile. Suddenly, a clone of himself with slicked back hair was dragged into a crowd. The crowd without faces clapped for him. Smiles appeared on their faces. One fainted. However, one member of the crowd stepped forward, bringing forth a picture of what looked like his brother. The clone appeared severely let down. One by one, the crowd turned away, walking into the abyss of the mirror. The clone scrambled to chase them before the illusion simply faded away. 

With his fast pace retained, he immediately made his way to the next turned arrow. 

The next mirror featured the same background and floor. A needy version of him in a simple black suit, exactly like the one John owned, stood in a dazed trance. He held a cartoon heart in hand, which he held onto for dear life. His gaze remained fixed on it. However, the pressure of his grip soon became so great that the heart combusted. It splattered against his shirt in a series of pink blots, drenching the suit to the point of the liquid slipping down to drip against the wood below. He began to cry. Soon, an indistinguishable hand reached out with a new heart. He originally slapped it down, but came to hold it back in hand once the liquid chilled against the mirror floor, forming small pink icicles. His face turned blue and his breath turned visible, which rectified completely once the new heart started beating. The heart began to extend to wrap around him, giving him enough heat to visibly relax. And so, he sunk to the floor, allowing the heart to turn into a blanket for him. 

To be forthright, Dirk couldn't make heads or tails of anything he was seeing. He couldn't even be sure they were coherent fragments of his future, instead of elaborate hoaxes invoked to make a pretty penny from the visitors of the room. Despite this, the minor attention to details in the mirrors haunted him.

His unrest did not hit its apex until the last vision appeared. 

On the last arrowed mirror he came to, the floor became pure metal. A barred window could be seen in the background, mirroring a confinement room. A version of himself with pure white hair and blood red eyes stood within the room, vacantly smiling. His gaze never faltered from Dirk's eyes. He walked forward, pressing a hand on the glass. Though he could not explain what compelled him to move, Dirk walked forward in suit, pressing a hand to rest above his duplicate's. After a moment of feeling against the mirror, the clone bashed his free hand against the hand to "crack" it, resulting in the illusion of the glass pieces falling within the mirror itself. The sound of glass cracking played to match it.  Because none of the other mirrors had any noise to them, Dirk stepped back. The clone attempted to reach forward, but he still couldn't move past the mirror boundaries. He began to scrape and grab at the mirror violently, grimacing at the futility of the motions. He faltered backward, feeling down along his face. He looked at Dirk again, this time almost pleadingly. He continued to try to reach Dirk as he walked away. 

He could swear he heard a faint version of his voice beckoning: "Return, return." 

Not longer than a minute later, Jake again raised a hand over the mirrors. He pointed to the rightmost wall, the section of the tent where he stood closest to begin with.

"Love, come this way!"

More than content to get away from the last mirror, Dirk shifted through some of the mirror gaps to make his way over. He tilted some mirrors to rest on their side, subsequently crawling underneath them to cross over the dark portions of the floor. He got the impression that some featured more figments of him, but he paid attention to none of them, not with so much as a glance. Jake continued to yell and wave at him, clapping contentedly as he was able to see Dirk again. 

The initial joy of their reunion ran short. Without a single word of explanation, Jake smiled mischievously, and pushed a small button at the side of a vanity mirror, which was propped up directly against the wall. The mirror began to turn and fold into itself. Revealed in its place was a solitary piece of red fabric resembling a curtain. He brushed his hands through the fabric to prop it upward, causing the wall around the vanity to open around it like a door.  

Once the door was locked in place, he took Dirk's hand.  

"….Is it okay to go back there?"

"Oh don’t you worry a bit about that."

Jake winked.

"I got permission first."

Without another word, he took Dirk into the room. 

Only after they stood fully within the room, the opening behind them closed.

The new room they stood within had maroon walls with a thin ceiling of pure white. Circus advertisements and anatomical charts spread themselves against the walls unevenly. A pile of metal junk set beneath it. Fanciful outfits hung on a white rack, with more in an open closet behind it. 

Dirk wondered if they were standing in a preparatory room for the heart of the circus, the tent professed to have a hundred acts. 

Regardless of what it was, he couldn't deny that he got a warm, positive feeling from it. 

"I do realize that the clothing is plenty nice and all but you are not looking in the right place." 

Jake placed his hands over Dirk's eyes, and slowly walked him over to the northmost wall in the room. 

"3.....2.......1........Now!" 

He released his hands, laughing to himself as Dirk looked into the face of the largest mirror in the entire tent. Carved spiral engravings could be seen all the way around the gold framing its edges, appearing to glimmer yellow and white as the light of the room touched it. Sitting beside it was a wall chart featuring information about it. It read as follows:

  1. Though the portals may change, the environments will not change once a new map is created. 
  2. The mirrors will not place anything harmful in any environment.
  3. The participants define the map with their combined imagination. 
  4. If you get lost, find a mirror. Imagine yourself back in this room while touching the glass. 
  5. Time does not pass in the mirrors. 
  6. Do not forget this room. 



Jake held both of Dirk's hand and phased back into the large mirror, pulling Dirk in along with him. 

The next moment, they found themselves laying across the grass of a forest clearing. 


	21. The Alternian Circus: Self Reflection (Part 2)

Dirk came to consciousness. Rainfall poured down across the clearing. The water pooling on the land beneath him began to seep up into his clothing, carrying a slight chill with it. An excess of mud followed in suit, forming splotches on his glasses, shirt, and skin. A cold air moved across the forest, sucking away any heat that might have come from the normally temperate climate. As he sat up, it became clear that the dirt covered the upper half of himself fairly liberally. Jake began to sit up beside him. He sported a large smear of mud across the side of his face, along with several smaller splotches along his neck.

While the two men both felt no sensation of falling, and carried no wounds, the deep impressions in the ground below them indicated that they entered the lonely field from a marvelous height. Proving their suspicion, several miles up from the ground, a mirror could be seen suspended in the air. The mirror looked smaller than the one they came in from, and despite its bizarre placement, did not appear any different than a standard mirror would. No lights, no scratches- just an ordinary mirror.

Two thoughts came to Dirk's mind. Comfortingly, it could be assumed that falling wouldn't lead into physical injury in the mirror realm. Disturbingly, if he and Jake needed to leave the area, they would have to find another mirror to use. Considering that he held no personal familiarity with the area, he couldn't say for sure whether or not that search would take a matter of minutes, or a matter of hours. He kept the process to exit the land tucked away in the back of his memory, stowing the thoughts in suit.

Jake smiled at him and laughed.

"We look right ridiculous now don't we. Usually the mirror is a bit more kind about how it entertains its entrances, but I have never entered with someone else before. It could be some of your stalwart pessimism leaking into the environmental construction. You absolute debby downer you." 

Jake reached a hand forward to feel down along the side of Dirk's face. His fingers gingerly brushed over his cheek, and idly dragged the mud on his face into a heart. He would have been more than contented to stay sitting with Dirk like that, but the rain began to fall harder. The noise of the water hitting the ground intensified. Thunder could be heard in the distance. He stood up, offering Dirk a hand.

"Come now. We only have so much time before we begin catching colds. I am certain that this map provided us a place to stay. It always acts in the benefit of the visitors."

Dirk took Jake's hand, and slowly stood up. Once he was on his feet, his eyes fell on an exceptionally large leaf that sat beside one of the trees around the field. The tree spaced itself from another at such a wide gap that he suspected that they formed the opening of a forest trail. He guided Jake toward the leaf, and released his hand as he went to examine it.

The large leaf appeared perfectly fine to use as an umbrella. The top and bottom portion of the body of the leaf featured no peculiar bumps or thorny protrusions, just lines that trailed down along the sides in intricate, spiral arrangements. As far as he could discern, no bugs nested anywhere around the leaf, and due to the isolated sound of the rainwater, none were particularly active. As far as he could tell, it featured no poisonous or harmful qualities about it. Dirk took it in hand. Without a word being spoken to him, Jake propped up the end of the leaf to keep it propped upward. 

His free hand fell into Dirk's hand for comfort. 

As they continued to walk across the wet ground, the noise of their steps magnified below them. A mud patch here or there created a distinctive splattering, dirtying their previously dirtied shoes and legs further. The trees above collected the rainwater on their leaves. Once a great enough water weight had been achieved, the leaves tipped downward, adding to the water already pattering against the top of their umbrella.   

Jake leaned to rest his head on Dirk's shoulder idly. Dirk brushed his fingers over the back of Jake's hand.   

For the last few years, the two developed an intimate relationship. On the morning following the night of their first kiss, Jake spilled his guts and professed that he felt romantically for Dirk for quite some time. Ever since Dirk first covered for him at the diner, he knew that he could absolutely trust and rely on him, and henceforth considered his feelings assured. While Dirk hardly felt himself in a proper place to return the feelings, he agreed to be his boyfriend because of how Jake generally treated him. Jake could be said to be kind. Eccentric, but kind. Over time, he developed a peculiar intensity of feeling toward Jake, one that he never thought he would be able to muster toward anyone at all. Whether it be a newfound appreciation for his gestures, or his speech, or his deeds, he collected an array of reasons to further substantiate his passion. And so, the two developed a seamless reliance on each other.

While Dirk locked his attention on the path ahead, Jake kept careful eye on the rocks on the forest ground. Through his last few visits, his trips throughout the mirror realm were guided by innocuous environmental details. First, he visited a cave without end. He would be guided through it by the bats that would come down from the ceiling. Second, he visited an empty hotel with no directory along the walls. The elevators would merely shift him any number of ways throughout the empty room levels, but he eventually learned that the buttons accepted multi-number strings. A guide of coordinates laid underneath a false advertisement in the elevator, which allowed him to shift to a location within the hotel with a mirror present. As his mind developed with his age, the environments he could conceive became more complex in suit, requiring more complex solutions. The only pattern he could discern at the present moment were the stones along the forest bed, causing him to guide Dirk along hurriedly while watching out for their changes.

He learned about the mirror's presence from the Makara family, who also lectured him on the mirror principles. They also gave him permission to set foot in the realm. He couldn't place how long it had been since he began entering, but he did know that it had been quite some time. 

As the two lovers continued on their walk, a red dragon darted out from the trees. Shining red and densely scaled, it let out a warning screech. The opening of its mouth revealed two sets of small, sharp teeth, liable to brand the creature a meat eater. It took a seat on a high tree branch, looking down at them both intently.  Dirk stepped back to observe it. Jake stepped forward. Because the rain began to fall on him again, he moved backward once more to resume his place on Dirk's shoulder.

"Do not worry about that little guy. The room never makes anything harmful- remember?"

"……"

Dirk kept his eyes fixated on the creature before turning back to the path ahead. Jake laughed.

"They scared me right proper too diving in like that. You know the first time i entered this place..."

Jake began to rant about his experience. 

It wasn't long before they came to the foot of a wide, raging river without a bridge. Rocks of all size and colors lined the bottom of it, along with the occasional plant. No fish could be seen. The water did not seem deep enough to be able to drown either of the men- if they stepped in, it would likely run up to the top of their necks. However, the apparent speed of the water would make it hard for someone to keep their place if they fell in. Swimming across it would likely be ill-advised. If no other solution was reached, wading across it could be viable.

Dirk kneeled down to feel the temperature of the water.

Wading across the water could be perfectly viable if they wanted to experience hypothermia, that would be chill. 

On the other side of the river, he could see a house with a porch light on. He couldn't make out enough detail to say whether or not anyone inhabited it. He could say that the interior house lights were off. 

Jake excitedly clapped his hands, and pointed out the existence of the building to Dirk.

"We are almost there! It may take some uh. Creative engineering to be able to cross the river, but at the least, we can be comfortable knowing that our destination is in sight. I will explain the meaning of that destination once we are there. I should hope that we will have some meals and blankets to our names. Getting those matters settled first would be preferable dont you think?"

Dirk turned to look around.

"….Would it be possible to cut one of these trees down? It would be a total stretch, but we could use it as a makeshift bridge if we land it correctly. "

Jake paused in thought, paying careful attention to the bases of the trees around them.

"You know what. I do believe that was just our subconscious intent during environmental construction. That tree over there came with a present."

Sure enough, a clean axe sat by the base of the tree.

Both of them immediately got to work. They would take turns chopping into the tree with the axe, switching hands whenever one of them got too tired to carry on. As the wood shook as the metal hit, birds awakened and flew from the tree top, flying toward a new home. The entire process took a good half hour or so. Soon, they had the wood down to a point where it would be thin enough to be pushed. They shoved it down in unison, watching as the tree fell across the river.

While it would be somewhat annoying to walk along, it would suffice. The thick leaves at the top propped the tip of the tree up at an angle. The incline increased toward the opposing side of the riverbank. Branches jutted out down along it- most of them piercing into the river now. The ones of the base snapped when they hit rock. Those portions of wood drifted down along the river, inevitably gathering along the sides. One of the branches that did not snap stood upright in the middle of their "crosswalk" area. Because of the space it comprised, the men would have to grab the top and shift around it. They could potentially cut it, but that might mean losing their footing on the branch and smashing down against the rock of the riverbed. Some of the water splashed against the sides of the tree, rendering the surface slick. 

After some discussions on safety, Jake volunteered to cross first. 

Dirk took one of his hands as he stepped up onto the log. Once Jake was stable, Dirk let go.

Jake carefully shifted along, balancing his footing as best he could. The first few steps were easy. He got a feel for the "safe" portion of the wood, placing a majority of his weight toward the center of it. He kept his feet moving one after the other, one after the other, ignoring everything else.  

The scream of the dragon came from the trees, louder than before. 

The dragon descended down from the treeline, clamping its jaw down on Jake's lower right arm. Jake let out a jolted cry and attempted to swat off the beast. The dragon continued to bite through his jacket cloth, creating a large hole in the material. Portions of shredded green fabric fell into the river. As more of his arm became visible, the dragon more frequently aimed to tear at his arm directly, causing red marks to begin showing up on his skin. Some of which bled. He propped himself against the protruding branch while he worked to ward off the creature, though it refused to let up.

Catching wise to the scenario, Dirk began to walk across the tree bridge to help. In his hurried state, he slipped. Luckily, he was able to dig his hands into the side of the tree, keeping him fixed in place as he pulled himself along the branch. Once he reached Jake, he grabbed the dragon and (sorry buddy) snapped one of its wings. It fell down into the river, letting out a few loud cries as it floated down with the river water.

Jake got his ass the fuck off the log. He walked toward the end of it, jumping down onto the grass once he reached the top. Dirk did the same, immediately pulling Jake further into land. 

"What the fuck, man? I thought mirror constructs weren't supposed to be dangerous. How the hell did this happen?"

"…..Mirror constructs aren't. Nothing like this has ever happened before."

"Are you okay?"

"It is nothing that cannot be fixed- if we can get our hands on some supplies indoors, I will be just fine."

The quaint cabin appeared uninhabited. While the lights on the porch remained lit, they were the only lights lit. The two floral-print couches underneath the porch awning lacked stains, impressions or any other evidence of being touched. The two pillows on each stacked one over the other. The cabin looked like it had two floors, both of a reasonable size. 

Dirk stepped forward to the door and attempted to open it. Sure enough, the door was unlocked. 

* * *

 

Jake stumbled into the house. He immediately began to search through the cabinets without worrying about anything else on the floor. 

Dirk started to help him in his search before he noticed a note on the table of the home.  Pink spiral designs covered the exterior of the white note, which formed a frame for the center content. The center simply read "Welcome" in an ornate, black font. He opened it up. Most of the note content was review- it listed off the principles on the mirror outside of the realm, ensuring that the visitors wouldn't forget if they stayed long enough to begin having failures in their memory. Enclosed was a photograph of the outside room's current state. The rest of the note went on to explain minutia of the mirror realm to take into account when exploring it, along with the location of the nearest escape mirror. Walking north would lead into a merger landscape- the land sloped down into a wide beach. The center of the beach housed the mirror. 

"Dirk!!"

After the utterance of Jake's cry, Dirk returned to helping.

From that point on, the search was easy due to the minimal floor space they had to cover.The first floor consisted of one large room connected to a smaller hallway. The hallway contained one storage room, one guestroom, and one bathroom. The main room was set up like a dining room. Cabinets and drawers lined the walls. A small table desk sat toward the door, which could be easily walked around. The back of the room housed a circular dining table, placed next to a fireplace (yet to be stoked). 

Jake located a small modern med kit in the first floor bathroom. The bathroom itself was lovely- while it was small, pink pattern wallpaper lined the walls. The wood floor was beautifully sanded, and it contained everything they might need later on (most notably, a shower). However, Jake could not bring himself to pay much attention to it now.

The kit in his hand utilized infinite space to contain a vast quantity of health supplies. Luckily, it was stocked to the brim.

He brought the kit out to Dirk.

"Found something!" 

"Sit down."

Jake looked around, and sat down on a chair not so far behind him. Dirk sat down next to him. He selected some gauze, a towel and some disinfectant. He sprayed some disinfectant on the towel as Jake spoke. 

"That dragon was nasty- I could have sworn it would have dived in for my neck if not for you stepping in. It certainly looked intent on bringing a meal home."

"……."

Dirk began to dab the towel over the puncture marks. Jake winced and grabbed Dirks free hand, squeezing it.    

"Then again you may have very well sent the little guy to davey jones esteemed locker with that watery descent. I do know that you love animals so that one might have been a notch. It may have. I am sorry that things had to come to that."

"It's nothing for you to apologize about."

After the marks were thoroughly clean, Dirk placed down the towel. He picked up the gauze and wrapped it around the area to prevent it from becoming infected.

"Does it hurt?" 

"Just a bit- but I will get over it. It certainly hurts less than the maw of that creature."

Jake leaned over and kissed Dirk on the forehead.

"Now that's taken care of- we should work on getting out of these disgusting clothes. The chairs will dry in time I am sure."

Jake stood up from his chair. He gave the current room a quick scan before heading upstairs. The stairs lead into a hallway with five doors for five rooms- two large bedrooms, two large bathrooms, and one room purely containing a bath. After idly scanning the exteriors of the doors for their room titles, he peered into one of the bedrooms. Once inside, he headed toward the bed area, inspecting the interior of a wardrobe. Sure enough, clothing filled it.  

He yelled down to Dirk below:

"Rest assured- there's tons of clothing and stuff up here!"

He began to toss off his shirt, laughing as Dirk walked up the stairs with some degree of exasperation. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!! 
> 
> For those who might think that the placement of the axe was a cheat solution- under normal circumstances, yes. Under circumstances to be explained later on, no.


	22. The Alternian Circus: Self reflection (Part 3)

"Jake, while I'm usually not one to question your rapid barreling down the anfractuous slope of 'adventuring', I do think this is a good time to sit and listen to your explanation for our placement here. Rather unfortunately, due to my reluctance to sit down on that dusty bed in the room's corner, I am settling for standing and listening to it."

Dirk took off his own shirt, and folded it over his arm. 

"Truth be told- the dragon event is still haunting me. The more I think over the attack, the more needless it feels. Was it really necessary for you to be hurt in here? Is this an attempted vacation stay? How long are we going to be here for? How many questions do I need to string in succession in order to relay the importance of the answers?"

Rather than solely giving a verbal response to Dirk's line of questioning, Jake walked across the room to give Dirk a hug. Dirk wrapped one hand around Jake, though he kept the arm holding his shirt held off to the side of him. When Jake did get the mind to begin his reply, he left his arms wrapped around him, though he lifted his head to look at Dirk. 

"Now while I cannot assuage all of your concerns I can bring some relief to one with a finite answer. Surely you remember- time works a bit quirky in here. Regardless of when you leave the mirror realm, you will leave out of it at the same time that you entered it. That’s why the sign says that time does not pass- no matter how long you stay here, the flow of time outside of the space never changes. Time inside of the realm passes in that it allows for the creation of events and facilitates the aging process- but when you leave again, you will resume being the age that you were before entering. I have heard rumors of there being a way to surpass the aging process too but um. I haven't quite tested that one out yet. I am not sure if I want to considering how that might throw typical social dynamics into a topsy turvy!  Belaying all that- I intend for us to stay here for about three days in our time, no more than that. I just wanted to relax with you for a while."

Dirk began to laugh.

"That's nice and all, but you're contributing to the ever present dirt-load on me, chatterbox. After snagging some clothing, I'm going to purge my skin.

Jake released Dirk and feigned a cough.

"About that- I was wondering if you would be willing to…join me. In a bath, that is."

Once released, Dirk crossed the room to drop his shirt in a hamper. From a dresser not so far from it, he dug through several articles of clothing in search of replacements for his own. Once he found something satisfactory (a black tanktop), he held the shirt up against himself to ensure that it would fit properly. To his relief, despite the intermingling with Jake's presumed clothing stack, the tanktop fit perfectly fine. He did the same with a pair of pajama pants and underwear, keeping his gaze fixated on evaluating the cloth as he replied to Jake's statement. 

"You mean to say that you brought me into an alternate realm that doesn't abide by Earth 5's rate of time so that you could fuck me."

Jake's thought halted and rushed out into a million and one sporadic directions against the confines of his skull. He struggled to fathom proper words for the scenario. Rather than leave himself completely silent while his mind resumed its work, Jake lapsed into awkward, jolted laughter. His volume rose until he inevitably thought it suitable to answer the question. The laughter quit without so much as an explanation.

"I- yes, absolutely. Well, I mean no. I did not bring you here solely for that purpose, though I thought it would be far less banal than attempting to make a move outside of a realm composed purely of subconscious aspirations-"

With his new clothing folded in his hands, Dirk turned to devote his attention to Jake.  

"You brought me into an alternate realm that doesn't abide by Earth 5's rate of time so you could fuck me."

Though he tried his damned hardest to will his expression against contorting into misery, Jake's visage couldn't help but emanate the same haplessness of a living fish on a cutting board as it flopped rapidly for water it didn't have, all before a butchers knife slammed down to remove its head and gut it. 

"I thought it would be the most romantic possible location. That’s all."

At the movement of Dirk's lips alone, Jake's expression further contorted to mirror the fish in the exact moment the knife slammed down. 

"Sure, whatever. We can give it a try."

Upon hearing that, Jake resumed his typical, jovial air. 

"Right then. I mean- right then!! Rest comfortably assured that everything will be out in the air, undressed and laid across a mahogany desk for the benefit of our mutual understanding."

Dirk walked out of the room.

"Regardless of the peculiar theme accuracy of that description- we're still getting cleaned up first."

Jake scrambled to gather his clothing. He ran straight out of the room to follow Dirk.

Dirk entered one of the bathrooms down along the hallway. The room contained a fair amount of situationally-irrelevant content, but relevant to what the two would be doing in a few minutes; the bathroom contained a combined shower/bath, and to Dirk's relief in particular, four towels folded and stacked on a shelf to the left of the toilet. Six smaller towels sat on a shelf above the larger four. 

He bent down over the side of the bath, turning the shower knob toward the hot side of the scale. His fingertips drifted overtop the outpouring water to ensure that the temperature of the water would be enough to heat the two of them, but not hot enough to scald. He could imagine that Jake may come up with a temperature disagreement later on, but like the non-shower non-towel portions of the bathroom, he thought that a matter unworthy of his immediate concern.  **  
**

Jake all but hopped into the room. Dirk turned his head.

"I know that you might have heard something through your whirlwind of excitement earlier, but I would like to reiterate for clarification. We're not doing anything sexual, absolutely anything sexual, until every spot of mud comes the fuck off our skin. I don't care if we have to spend an eternity eradicating the filth, I'm not smashing junk until I know that I'm not lathered in it."

"I know!! And I certainly would not be opposed to that agreement- after all I would certainly pay the most of my mind to the feeling of the mud becoming watery again rather than the feeling of the other stuff. Which I am presuming will feel a hell of a lot better than the mud- this is much more of a statement toward the high relevancy of the feeling of the mud in my mind than it is a statement toward your assumed bed performance." 

Once he took his place in the room, Jake shut the door and locked it. He looked toward Dirk expectantly.

"I'm not offended by your commentary if that's the answer that you're after here."

Jake laughed with a hint of uncertainty to his tone.

"Now that we have everything sorted out with our overarching process- I would like to know when it would be suitable to undress the rest of the way."

Dirk stood up and began lowering his own pants zipper.

"Whenever the hell you want to."

Jake watched as Dirk's pants fell to the floor. After a moment of dispelling some doubt, he shifted his hands along his own shorts, idly moving his fingers over them before he dropped them. His hands folded one over the other as he stood watch of Dirk, who currently had himself tied up in the process of diverting the water's entrance point to the mouth of the shower head (by pulling a small metal knob set toward the back of the temperature dial).  

Thoughts began to stack and contradict as Jake considered how he should go about the act of dropping his boxers in front of Dirk for the first time. Should he go for courageous and bold, or should he be more meek about releasing the flesh dragon from the cage? Then again, he really ought to abstain from any comparisons to dragons, in thought or otherwise. Back on the subject of his initial performance- perhaps he should go with neither and just casually drop his trousers like it wasn't a big deal at all. However, a perceived apathy did have its costs. It could very well cause Dirk to worry about whether or not he legitimately cared about the ordeal. 

Dirk tossed his underwear to the side and entered the shower.

Jake stood dumbfounded. He wasn't going to entertain finesse about it? No exaggerated theatrics? Not even a modest wink? While he felt a mild disconcertment about lapsing into the state he personally felt worried about causing, Jake dropped his own boxers. He placed his glasses down near the sink, and took his place beside Dirk in the shower. He closed the curtain behind him. 

His disconcertment and subsequent confusion lead into a small amount of idiocy breaking its way into his language.  

"Look at us! We're naked!!" 

"Gold star observation."

"We're naked together!"

"Yes."

"Just a couple of paramours showcasing their-"

Dirk put some shampoo in his palm and lathered it in his hands. He began to wash through Jake's hair by roughly ruffling over it.

Jake lapsed back into laughter. This time, the laugh sounded natural. 

"I take it you're not one much for a good jest."

Jake reached over to the shampoo bottle, dumping a reasonable amount of it into his own hands. He reached up and counter-attacked Dirk with it, working out the ever-present gratuitous amount of hair gel. 

"Take that you waltzing jackanapes! How dare you showcase brazen apathy toward my naked form."

"Dude-"

Dirk began to laugh. He stepped back into the stream of water, causing him to lean his head to the side to avoid getting soap down along his face. As the water rushed down along his hair, it began to fall down into its natural position. Jake wouldn't be able to place words on the similarity, but Dirk specifically engendered the cut to [appear like Viral's hair when unstyled.](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/toonami/images/a/a4/Viral.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140722195459) Among other excuses, Dirk would be liable to say that the antiquated show of origin necessitated levels of dedication that only a barber could provide.  

In newfound bliss, Jake fervently washed through Dirk's hair, all the while, Dirk struggled to resume his unfinished job on Jake's hair. It wasn't long before he pulled Jake toward the stream (at a diagonal to avoid wetting his bandage quite yet), and subsequently moved him here or there in order to redirect the water over the spots of dirt across him. Mud began to drip down into the meager pool of water laying on the bath's base, forming small streams of brown, which trailed neatly down into the drain. Some of the soap joined the mix on the floor when either of the two became careless with their scrubbing. 

From a small shelf at the side,Dirk took out a small cylindrical bottle of body soap. He retrieved a small towel on the exterior of the bath, and instructed Jake to turn around. Jake complied, smiling contentedly as Dirk washed off the remainder of the slim, brown layer of muck that seeped through the back of his shirt during the fall.

Jake's mind began to idle on the sensation, following the position of every circular stroke, documenting the pressure put into them. However, his state of calm was short lived. He let out a startled cry as Dirk smacked him across the ass with the towel. He turned, grabbed the towel out of Dirk's hands, and began smacking Dirk across the chest with it. Dirk slipped back into laughter.

"Better watch it, man. Roughhousing is discouraged in areas with slippery surfaces."

"You should have thought of that before you whipped me! I cannot believe you friggin whipped me!"

"Gotta keep you on your toes. Keep you alert."

As recompense for enduring his convoluted gesture, Jake not only kept the towel in hand, but he assumed cleaning privileges with it for the rest of the shower. He washed the remaining portions of mud off Dirk, brushing the cloth against his neck and back, instructing him to raise or lower one of his arms now and again in order to scrub hard-to-reach areas. In accordance with how concerned Dirk was with the act of being liberated from dirt hell, Jake did his best to be meticulous about it. Dirk complied, and allowed the faintest appearance of a smile to appear on his mouth. 

After he was done, Jake checked himself for remaining spots of dirt. Upon seeing none in sight, he tossed the dirtied towel to the floor.

"Dirk, I believe you are quite aware of our agreement."

"Throw you over the side of the bath after eliminating the grime off your skin. Of course."

"Wrong answer!!"

Jake took Dirk by the hand. He dragged him out of the bath, and further out of the bathroom. He did not stop to take any of the large towels in hand, though he did stop to unlock the bathroom door just as the two exited it. 

"Did you have something against using the shower walls? The bath floor? Or am I just being towed to the nearest window for a flight test."

Jake brought Dirk into a room with a singular bath. Though the bath held none of an inground hot tub's functions aside from keeping water, it mirrored the appearance of one. The exterior of the bath was lined at the sides with a thin layer of raised white porcelain, punctuated by four lowered areas intended to be used for easy entry. The interior resembled the other tubs within the home fairly closely in texture (smooth along the edges but somewhat course along the bottom), however the depth of the tub was deeper and larger. Additionally, a raised seat-esc. area lined the whole of the base, allowing someone to sit down to relax in the tub. The room itself held white walls and a brown wood floors, and smelled vaguely of the outside's forest air. Three windows lined the top of the walls. Through them, the same gray, rainy sky present before their trip into the home remained visible. 

He let Dirk go as he headed to turn the exterior knob to the same relative position at the shower.

Dirk watched as water dripped down along Jake's skin, and came to sit along the side of the bath. He let his legs rest toward the base of it, feeling the first of the water to rush in.

Jake came to sit at Dirk's right. His arms wrapped around him at the shoulder, and with a hand, he tilted his head to the side to give him a kiss. Dirk only kept his eyes open for a brief moment. As the kiss continued and he returned the gesture with some degree of fluidity, his eyes fell to a close. Jake's hand slipped down along his arm to rest at his hand. His hand gently lulled across it before Dirk moved his to weave his fingers through Jake's. Drips of water from their hair, backs and arms fell down across the floor. As a chill slipped across the room, they moved closer to one another. At first, it was as simple as Dirk moving his hand up along Jake's arm, halting before he hit the (now somewhat moistened) bandage. It then progressed to Jake turning toward Dirk, lowering his legs into the water to brush against Dirk's.

They remained mindlessly kissing for a while indeterminable in length to either of them, letting the water of the bath climb higher on their legs without concern. Without any other impetus to move, they only came to move as the water flowed almost to the tops of their bent knees. Dirk pulled away and turn the water off. Some of the water would be bound to pour over the side of the bath as they entered- that much was fine, assuming that a fully malleable timeless environment would never have to worry about something as trivial as water damage. 

Dirk slowly slipped into the bath. Jake dropped himself into the water carelessly, and he took his place back at Dirk's side. As anticipated, a good sum of water spilled over the bath's edge.

Jake took Dirk's hands in his own, only partially restraining a laugh.

"The prior mood seemed so peaceful that I am almost sorry to see it pass. Dirk would you mind if I topped this run?"

"Despite earlier commentary, I personally don't give an ever-loving fuck about arbitrary, socially constructed roles during-"

"It is a yes or no question dear. But gosh do I love your skull."

"If you're that set on it- no, I wouldn't mind. Yes, you can top."

Jake went back in to pull him into a kiss before rushing out of the tub. He crossed back over into the bathroom they previously came out of, and rapidly fished through the drawers under the idea that the environment wouldn't have been too negligent about stocking itself for his means on account of his half of formation intent. He came back moments later with a bottle of silicone-based lube, which he carried with him as he entered the water again. He briefly thought about how saddening it could be that humanity came far enough to escape the limitations of their physical forms and given environments, but not far enough to ubiquitously elude the need for external lubricants. Coming to the conclusion that he didn't really care about that after all, he headed back into the room with the solitary bath. 

Jake began to lather his fingers in the substance. Once the fluid reasonably coated the fingers of his right hand, he placed the bottle to the side.

"Dirk I am going to need you to tilt your legs up a bit. Preferably you should spread them out and get comfortable over there. Just so you are completely aware of what I am going to do in about a moment-"

"I know you're about to shove your fingers up my ass, Jake. As long as you don't treat my anus like a mystery box and shove your fist up there in an attempt to grab a prize, we'll be chill."

"You are making it awfully hard to maintain any graceful elements to the copulation process."

"You mean sex."

"Fair enough, fair enough."

Dirk propped his legs up, using the raised seat-esc. portion of the bath for balance. Jake drifted his clean hand down Dirk's thigh, sliding toward the interior of it as he neared the base. Dirk's skin felt noticeably warm to the touch, even contrasted against the heat of the water surrounding it. His other hand dived into the water, though he stopped its movement. He froze completely as he realized the weight of his request. Traces of sweat ran down his face and neck, though it could easily be mistaken for bath water on sight.

To assuage Jake's perceived nerves, Dirk used one of his hands to splash some water on Jake.

"Hey!!!"

He blocked some of the stream with his free arm.

"You haven't even started, there's nothing to screw up."

"But what if I do screw something up? What if I end up hurting you??"

"The only way that you'd end up hurting me in this scenario is if you jumped ship from a relaxed plan and sculpted out some Bible Black shit. Which is to say, you won't, I'll be fine, just go easy, and I'll help you through it."

Dirk reached forward and began to stroke along Jake's length in gentle but deliberate motions. Jake sighed as his eyes fluttered to a close. The hand on Dirk's thigh lightly squeezed down.  

"...Are you sure you don't want me to take the top seat for a while?"

Dirk moved his hand along the shaft to Jake's head, and brushed along the slit with his thumb. Jake exhaled, releasing and squeezing the hand on Dirk's thigh down once more as he gathered himself to the degree he could. He sweat a notch more as he pushed his lubbed hand to rest against Dirk's crotch, feeling him before circling a finger over his entrance. He halted its movement before pushing a first finger inside. He started slow, hastening his entry once he was certain that Dirk wasn't reacting negatively. 

"No- no I would very much like to be the one fucking you."

The sensation first came across to Dirk as strange and more than a little unwelcome, though it didn't hurt on account of how careful Jake was. Jake started to slowly pump his finger inside of him, questioning if he was doing it correctly, or if there could even be said to be a strict notion of "correct" in these scenarios. Though he doubted it would have much of an effect, he tilted his finger and played with his angles, turning eye to Dirk's expressions once he became more sure of himself. After a few moments passed, as if expectant of Jake needing a further command to proceed, Dirk silently nodded.

Jake placed in a second finger. Dirk tightened up slightly at the addition, but forced himself to relax against the back of the bath once the initial harshness of feeling subsided. As Jake continued the movements of his hand, he gazed down at Dirk's body underneath the water, and studied how his chest would rise and fall, how his legs would adjust. As he tilted his fingers and expanded them, he studied how Dirk's mouth would open at a slight, how he would restrain his sound through exhaling. He leaned his head down into the curve of Dirk's neck, and began to kiss down along it slowly. His other hand began to pump Dirk's shaft, keeping careful mind of Dirk's reactions.

Dirk's eyes closed and his head lulled to the side.

"You can put in a third now, you know."

Doing as told, Jake carefully slipped a third finger in. Dirk grunted and shifted in the bath. Jake pulled back from Dirk's neck so that he could pay more mind to his actions, and Dirk let out a breathy laugh.

"Dude- no. Let me chill with this a second. Just- let me chill here."

"Should i-"

Jake began to remove his fingers.

"If you do that, I will fucking break your hand off and stick the fingers on your lifeless hand back in."

Rather than complain, Jake attempted to stifle his laughter as he moved his fingers in deep again.

"Who would have thought you would be this anal about this."

"Repeat that one, and I will fucking fist you like the north star."

"I don’t know what that means!!"  **  
**

Jake lapsed into laughter fully as he began to move his fingers once more. While Dirk let out a curse and tightened once more, he again relaxed back down after a few brief moments of the hand. Once his expression removed itself from a state of 'disinterested disgust', his hips began to shift forward in accordance with the movements of Jake's hands. A low moan slipped out of his mouth as Jake added variance to his stretching, which caused a jolt of warmth to run down Jake's spine. Dirk let his words run without care from that point on. 

"Right there…..harder…….no, fuck, just-….."

His mutterings began to gather and stack. His chest moved more noticeably than before, though it would still in the aftermath of a particularly deft stroke.  It wasn't long past that point that Jake decided Dirk was prepared enough. He removed both of his hands from him.

"NOT- cool dude, not fucking cool."

Dirk's brows furrowed, and his barely-opened mouth closed into a familiar line. His eyes reopened, and he sat up. Jake lightly rested his hands at the sides of Dirk's jaw before he trailed them down to his shoulders. 

"Come now. We cannot just spend our entire time like this. That would be an awfully borish way to go about our night. Moreover, if I have to stand five more minutes of watching you pant and shift around while being finger fucked, I may just lapse into a state of madness. The onset madness would be so severe in nature that it would require detaching myself from the scenario completely to wither into a masturbatory heap in the corner of the room."

"It would be that bad? Really? Would it? Is the idea of ravaging my wet body really that enticing to you?"

"How come you only say sexy things inside of my head?"

"How often do you fantasize about me?"

Jake leaned his head down on Dirk's shoulder.

"Weve come so far and yet lost so much. I can feel my lower half turning blue already."

"I'm empathetic for your plight, I really am. But I have to ask. For you- does that mean that you're being turned off, or being extremely turned on?"

"I'm not going to merit that one with a direct reply." 

 Dirk took the opportunity to kiss Jake on top of the head for his trouble. Jake removed his head from Dirk's shoulder, and placed a hand on the lube bottle at the side of the bath. He dropped a good deal of it into his palm, and rubbed it along his length generously (while he could be certain that his length was already adequately covered several strokes before he finished, the sensation felt too nice in the aftermath of the drought to cease early). 

With a hand, he positioned his length in front of Dirk's entrance. 

"Are you ready?" 

"I'm ready enough."

Dirk grit his teeth as Jake's dick began to enter him. He brought his hands down against the seat of the bath, all but clawing into it to distract himself. Despite the feeling of the wonderful warm constriction on his length, Jake did his best to pace his entry, but he couldn't help but inch forward a little faster than intended toward the end. Once he was done, he planted his hands down on the sides of the bath, careful to note how slippery the surface had become. 

Dirk shifted his legs out once more bit by bit, pausing every time Jake would make the faintest movement in the water. His length throbbed within him, which Dirk imagined that he would be grateful for at any point of time except for this one.  

"I'm serious about this dude. Fucking serious. If you move before I give you the green light on this one, I will be personally responsible for shooting your Gatsby in a nearby pool."

"I promise I wont move an inch."

"You wont move a centimeter."

"Not a millimeter either. Cross my heart."

Jake bit his lip and closed his eyes as he waited, tapping his fingers against the porcelain bath exterior. As he thought of things he could be doing in the immediate future, his urge to move intensified exponentially. He could have sworn that he experienced one solitary moment of absolute agitation, excitement and pain before Dirk brought himself to speak. 

"You can move, Jake."

Jake opened his eyes to look at him. 

"I swear on my fucking life, move."

While his state of thought could be described as murky at best, Jake slowly shifted his hips back, and thrusted back in hard. Dirk let out a cry and clawed into the bath seat harder, but forced himself to still his hands to prevent his knuckles from turning white. He panted as Jake shifted back out, lapsing into a regular speed of movement.

He couldn’t debate that it all felt mostly awkward and uncomfortable. Spurts of pleasure ran through him here and there, though the initial bursts felt faint. Jake's experience ran contrarily- the heat and pressure along his length sent his mind into a dizzied haze. One set of thoughts nagged him to move more quickly, with more pressure. Another set of thoughts buzzed with every gasp, moan and whine out of Dirk's mouth, increasing in volume by the second. A third set, a faint third set, brought concern to Dirk's relative enjoyment. Jake attempted to angle himself in accordance with where Dirk reacted well earlier, hastening his pace all the while.

(Though he was hardly aware of it, Jake let all manner of small noises babble out of his mouth- portions of thought, high pitched moans, and overwhelmingly, Dirk's name.)  

Once the uncomfortable feelings lessened in intensity, Dirk tilted his hips, and shifted them forward again in time with Jake's. Jake leaned his head to the side of Dirk's and began to murmur things in his ear, licking along the shell now and again. Dirk couldn't discern whether or not the murmuring came across to him as inordinately obscene because of how it contrasted with Jake's usual manner of speech, or if the obscenity came out of the ideas themselves, but the few words that he heard addressed directly to him brought him into a such a strong state of shock and attraction that he could almost believe that Jake's physical adequacy ran parallel to it. Almost. He paid full attention to the stream of thoughts out of Jake's mouth, imagining the new scenarios in place of the current one. From that point on, the minimalistic pleasure coming to him didn't quite seem to minimal. The discomfort, while still noticeably present, faded in relevance.

Jake shifted Dirk's legs up in the bath. In suit, Dirk was more than content wrapping his arms around Jake's neck. 

"You're a fucking monster." 

"Oh um. Oh."

"That's a good thing."

"Oh??"

Dirk laughed. 

Jake's hands rocked along Dirk's thighs, guiding him as he felt himself nearing peak. 

"....Heavens, I forgot to ask. Dirk sh-"

"Do whatever you want." 

It wasn't long before Jake climaxed. He closed his eyes and let out a relatively loud cry as his fingers dug into Dirk's sides. He remained thrusting inside of Dirk as the sensation subsided, only pulling out after he completely finished. He lowered a hand to Dirk's shaft, stroking along it until he came himself. Dirk let out a contented, deep moan, though it wasn't nearly as audible as Jake's. 

"......."

Dirk pushed himself up and out of the water, watching as a stream of white tainted portions of the bath. 

"I'm going to go bring some towels from the other room." 

He walked out carefully, though his walk appeared slightly unpracticed now. He did nothing close to limping, but now and again, he needed to pause to let a soreness fade.

While he was out of the room, Jake lowered a hand into one of the white portions of water, pulling some of it out. The consistency of the semen appeared somewhat obscured from what it would usually be. Nevertheless, he raised the hand to his mouth, licking across it. 

As he heard footsteps approaching across the wood of the outside floors, he lowered his hand back into a clean portion of water, shaking the fluid off before Dirk came in. 

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired as all hell. Hopefully, the beds around here are quality." 

Dirk extended a hand to give Jake one of the towels. Jake rose out of the water, and wrapped it around himself. Dirk did the same with his, only now noticing how pruned some of his hands and feet became. They wandered hand in hand back into the bathroom, retrieving and wearing the nightclothes they picked out beforehand. In the aftermath, Dirk went to gather some new gauze, re-wrapping Jake's arm so that he would not have to deal with the wetness all night. Once he ensured that the new wrappings would not fall off, he took Jake's hand and walked with him down the hall once more. 

They came to rest in a bedroom on the same floor. One small, solitary window cast a dark blue light across the middle of the room. From what little the two could see, they made out the outline of a bed, though they could only faintly make out the pattern of the blankets across it. That much was enough for them. In their tired stupor, they did nothing more than check that the bed was empty before lazily slipping underneath the covers. While Jake bothered to adjust the blanket to sit properly on his side, Dirk left the blanket as it was. It laid across his lower torso, remaining in place as he turned away from Jake. He watched the light on the floor lessen. Details on a drawer beside the bed became faded. Floor area sunk into black.

Jake slipped an arm around Dirk, gently pulling him back against him. He kissed the back of his head.

"I cant believe you're mine now."

Dirk, quite honestly, couldn't believe the idea either. So rather than respond, he moved Jake's hand to his chest and fell asleep wordlessly. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of notes to make on this one. I really do. 
> 
> 1\. Someone is going to bring up the lack of creativity about a normally-functioning, normal looking, non-vibrating robo cock. I could have just written in a distended metal pipe. I could have stuck a miniature Doc Ock down there. Hell, I could have even gone Tetsuo with it and just swapped shit out for a power drill. (To anyone who has ever seen Tetsuo: The Iron Man, I'm sure you're agreeing with the decision to not go down that route.) Maybe I'll play on some of that shit later on, maybe I won't- either way, you now know that cock structural creativity is within the boundless abyss of my imagination. 
> 
> 2\. Yes, they did use lube in the middle of a fantasy forest realm. I don't know why that struck me as the funniest fucking thing, but it would be kind of like walking around Zork, climbing on a tree and avoiding dark places like normal, and suddenly- "You are inside a deep cavern with oily walls. Holes line the edges of the wood. A fifteen gallon container of lube lays opened on the leftmost corner." 
> 
> 3\. Jake trying to shove his dick into a condom underwater while Dirk made water balloon jokes is a notable exempted idea here. (But for the record, that is still totally canon in this non-canon work.) 
> 
> Now that we have those totally necessary notes of enrichment on the table, I hope you all enjoyed today's awkward first time theatre. I'm enjoying the idea of working on the next chapter. _Finally._
> 
> (For rain generators to listen to while reading, try [ here](http://mynoise.net/NoiseMachines/rainNoiseGenerator.php) or [here.](http://rain.simplynoise.com/))


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